


We Fell In Love Dancing Kizomba

by destimushi



Series: We Fell In Love Dancing Kizomba [1]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biologically Necessary Submission, Buck is not a firefighter, Dom/sub, Domspace, Fire Fam - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Kinky, M/M, Rope Bondage, Subspace, biologically necessary domination, cooking instructor buck, dom/sub biology, eddie diaz cannot cook, maddie/chim side pair, safe wording
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 125,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21529054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destimushi/pseuds/destimushi
Summary: After tragedy strikes close to home, firefighter Eddie Diaz moves him and his son, Christopher, to LA where they can start fresh. Single fatherhood, new job, and a new town stretch Eddie thin, and his biological Dominant needs are barely met. But the fear of repeating the same mistakes keeps him strung tight and unable to let loose.Evan "Buck" Buckley loves cooking and teaching children in his cooking class. He's a Submissive, this is what he's supposed to do, what his biology is made to do, and he's good at it. But Buck's always had a dream that's so farfetched for a sub that he never dares to even voice it.When Christopher asks to take a cooking class for children, the two men's worlds collide. Eddie needs to learn to let go, and Buck needs to learn that there's more to life than just tradition and expectations. And maybe, just maybe, they can find happiness along the way.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Series: We Fell In Love Dancing Kizomba [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040162
Comments: 658
Kudos: 1421





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So it's happening. A multichapter fic. Send help XD. 
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful [Sparken_Rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparken_Rose).
> 
> This story is set in the same world as an older story I wrote for a different fandom. You don't have to read that first one to get this, they're totally separate. For those who has read [Between the Folds of Submission](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12245118/chapters/27822036) you may find easter eggs throughout this ;D!!!
> 
> The title is inspired by the song [Dancing Kizomba](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o51yKmpEAls) by Alx Veliz. Click to listen! 
> 
> Tentative updates every Friday, but I may miss a week here or there once in a while if life gets stupid! Hope you enjoy this world as much as I do!

Eddie pulls into the parking lot of the community center and swallows as a fresh wave of nerves hits him. He glances back at Chris and forces the corners of his lips into a smile when Chris beams at him. He’s vibrating with raw excitement, and Eddie’s heart sits in his throat as he parks the car. 

This is either going to turn out fantastic, or a total disaster. Eddie’s not sure which way he wants it to go. Chris will either have a fantastic time and want to finish the whole program, or he’ll hate it, or they may refuse to accommodate him, then Eddie can go back to having his father and son movie nights. 

Eddie kills the engine and glances at Chris through the rear view mirror and sighs. No one told him it would be so hard to watch his little boy grow so fast. 

“ _Ay_ _mijo_ ,” Eddie turns and puts on his best smile. “Ready to go?”

“Yes, daddy,” Chris unclips his seatbelt and waits for Eddie to come get the door. There are many things Chris can do on his own, but getting out of the car with crutches is still not one of them. And it’s one of the few things Eddie allows himself to do for his little boy still. 

“Here, give me those,” Eddie says as he reaches for Chris’ crutches, then holds out a hand for Chris as he worms his way out of the car. “Are you excited?”

“So excited,” Chris replies, then leads the way toward the community centre without a backwards glance. 

Eddie locks the car, then follows Chris into the brightly lit building. They stop at the information desk and ask for directions, then Chris leads the way and Eddie follows as they head for classroom at the end of the hall. 

The new community centre opened only a week ago, and the whole neighbourhood got flyers for the new programs they offer. When Chris told Eddie he wanted to take the cooking class for kids, Eddie was torn. It’s hard enough for Chris to maneuver around the house with his crutches, but to do that in a classroom where other kids may be holding knives and god knows what other sharp objects one uses for cooking? It’s a nightmare come true. 

But Eddie has never been good at refusing Chris when the kid really wants something. Guilt from being away for the first years of Chris’ life eats at him constantly, and with the recent move and loss of Chris’ mother, Shannon, Eddie just couldn’t say no. 

So, here they are, heading toward a room potentially full of clumsy children between the ages of seven and twelve, being led by someone Eddie’s not sure has ever met a child with cerebral palsy, let alone teach him how to hold a knife. 

Fear turns to frustration, which turns to a burning itch under his skin. Eddie clenches his fists and takes a deep breath, willing the ever-present heat to subside for just a few more hours. It’s been too long since he’s gone into dom space. He’d gotten complacent when Shannon came back into his life, and they fell back into that part of their relationship so easily it made Eddie dizzy. A sub who knew exactly how to take him into dom space is rare, and now that she’s gone, Eddie’s back to scrambling for stand-ins. 

It’s his own fault for not looking after his physical needs, but work’s been crazy, and with Carla, his trusty babysitter, gone on vacation for the past two weeks, there hasn’t been anytime for Eddie to get away.

Carla got back in town yesterday, and she’s coming by tonight to give Eddie some much needed alone time. Eddie ignores the tremors in his hands at the idea of finally stepping into that heady space, even if it’s with a stand-in sub, and pushes open the door to the classroom for Chris. Chris is too young to have his orientation surface, and Eddie wishes with his whole being that Chris is a Neutral. Living with CP is hard enough, Eddie can’t imagine adding further sub or dom complications to that. 

Four long, wooden tables stretch across the classroom, each set with three sets of cooking utensils and bowls. Beside the bowls is a toaster oven at each station. At the front is a large kitchen with a similar wooden table, except there’s a much bigger assortment of cooking utensils and bowls of different sizes arranged in a neat stack. 

The classroom is surprisingly full for twenty minutes before starting time. This is an instructor led class where parental participation is optional, but almost every kid here is with their mom. Eddie’s chest twinges for Chris. 

In front of the classroom, behind the kitchen’s wooden counter, a man’s back is turned to them. He’s tall, his shoulders broad, and his thick arms put the stretch in his t-shirt to the test. Eddie swallows as his eyes travel along the man’s back to his tapered waist, where an apron cinches the loose material of his shirt. He’s wearing blue jeans, and it’s been a while since Eddie’s met a man who puts that much strain on denim with his thighs. 

Eddie hasn’t been with a man since his army days, but he’s damned if he doesn’t miss the weight of solid muscle and the scratch of stubble on his skin. 

The man turns around, his face splitting into a wide smile when he spots Eddie and Chris by the door, and Eddie’s lost. That smile is like staring into the sun. The guy comes around the kitchen and walks toward them. Eddie’s mouth goes dry, and he doesn’t realize he’s staring until Chris nudges him with his crutch. 

“Daddy?” 

Eddie blinks and clears his throat. “Oh, uh, hey.”

“You must be Christopher Diaz,” the man leans down and holds out his hand for Chris to shake. 

“Uh huh,” Chris replies. “And this is my daddy.” 

The man straightens and holds out his hand again. “Hi daddy. My name’s Evan Buckley, but you can call me Buck.”

Eddie studies his face, his eyes zeroing in on the red mark in the corner of his left eye. A burn? A birthmark? Eddie doesn’t have long to dwell on that because Buck’s eyes are on him. And those eyes, so blue they’re like crystals, sparkle as they hold Eddie’s gaze. 

“Um, Diaz, I mean”—Eddie reaches for Buck’s hand and grips it tightly—“Eddie Diaz. You can call me Eddie.”

Buck squeezes Eddie’s hand one last time before letting go, amusement twinkling in his gorgeous eyes. “I’m the cooking instructor. Would you be joining Christopher tonight?”

Eddie swallows. “Yeah. Chris has never held a knife before, so…”

Buck nods as if he’s heard this a thousand times. “Of course.” He points at an empty station directly across from the kitchen at the front of the classroom. “I reserved a spot for you, since it’s your first day. We’re making chocolate chip cookies tonight, so no knives necessary.”

Eddie and Chris follow Buck to the front of the classroom. They get comfortable in their station, and while Chris pokes at the whisk and spatula and peeks into all the bowls, Eddie tries _really hard_ not to stare at Buck’s ass as he makes his way back behind the kitchen counter at the front. Suddenly, it makes sense why there are so many moms here. 

Buck checks the clock, then straightens his apron before going back to preparing his station. He brings our a container filled with what looks like flour, then another with white sugar, brown sugar, then he leans over and reads off a piece of paper before grabbing eggs and butter out of the fridge to the left of the kitchen. 

Eddie peeks under the large table and finds similar containers of ingredients. His nerves settles a thousand folds when Buck said there will be no knives, but now his stomach flutters for a whole different reason. 

There’s still ten minutes before class starts. A couple more families come in. One family, mom, dad, and little girl, takes the station to Eddie’s left, and a slightly older boy takes the station to Eddie’s right alone. Buck comes around and greets the boy with an exploding fist bump, and when he catches Eddie watching, he winks before heading back to finish the last of his preparations. 

When the clock hits six, Buck claps his hands and the room hushes. “Welcome back, everyone.”

“Hi Buck,” a few kids call out haphazardly, and Buck beams. 

“Hey guys.” He spreads his hands on the wooden table and leans over them. “Did you enjoy the sugar cookies we made last time?” 

“Yes!” The collective affirmation make Buck’s smile impossibly bright, and Eddie’s face grows a little warmer. 

“Today, we’re going to make chocolate chip cookies.” Cheers go up in the classroom, and Chris claps his hands as he grins up at Eddie. “Next week, we’ll be making spaghetti, so parents, do not despair.”

The adults around the room chuckle, someone cheers from the back, and Eddie can’t help but smile. 

Buck holds up a stack of printed pages and walks between the tables, handing a sheet out to each family. When he gets to Eddie, Buck’s grin grows wider, his fingers brushing Eddie’s as he passes the piece of paper to him. Eddie swallows and tries to focus on reading the recipe, but the back of his neck is prickly, and he’s warm as hell. 

Once he’s made his rounds, Buck returns to the front of the classroom and starts going down the list of ingredients, his finger pointing at each container on his table as he rattles them off. The muscles in Buck’s forearm twitches as he moves from container to container, and Eddie’s mouth gets a little drier. 

The rest of the hour long class passes with Eddie in a half daze as he helps Chris measure out sugar and butter and flour and mix and stir and scoop. Eddie tries to ignore Buck, but he’s drawn to the animated way Buck talks with his hands, drawn to his patience with the little ones whose parents are not here. Drawn to the man’s gentle smiles of encouragement and to his utter excitement—like a puppy—when their cookies come out of the toaster oven perfectly golden brown. 

“All right, everyone,” Buck yells over the hubbub of the classroom, “lets get tidied up before we pack your cookies away.” He points to the row of sinks in the back of the classroom. “Please collect all your dirty dishes and put them in the sinks in the back.” 

Eddie holds the mixing bowl while Chris places all the dirty utensils into it. With the crutches, Chris can’t carry the bowl to the sink. Eddie’s glad he decided to stay after all. They wait for their neighbour to move out of the way when Buck comes by and grabs the dirty bowl out of Eddie’s hands. He winks at Eddie, _again_ , then ruffles Chris’ hair and beckons him with a tilt of his head. 

“Let’s go, Chris, want to help me get this soaking in the sink?” 

“Yeah,” Chris replies with a wide smile, and the two of them shuffle toward the back of the room with the rest of the class. 

Eddie stares after them, and snaps his jaw shut when he realizes it’s hanging. Something warm and fuzzy settles in the centre of Eddie’s chest, and he forgets about the burning itch beneath his skin for a moment. Buck was amazing the whole time, coming by to encourage Chris when Eddie itched to reach out and help. And now, watching Buck treat his son with such respect and care even though they’d just met, it makes Eddie’s heart swell and his faith in humanity is restored just a little more. 

People are filing out of the classroom by the time Chris and Buck make their way back to Eddie at the front of the classroom. 

“Man, it gets crowded in here,” Buck says. 

Eddie blinks and clears his throat before answering. “Y-yeah, it’s a fantastic class. You’re great and the kids seem to love it.”

Buck grins, and a dusting of pink colours his cheeks. “Nah, I just love kids, and they can do so much when we let them, you know?” He looks down at a very happy Christopher, and Eddie thinks he’s going to burst if he doesn’t get out of here soon. 

“Daddy, can I have a cookie before bed tonight?” Chris holds up the bag bursting with the cookies they made together. “Puh-lease?”

Eddie and Buck both laugh, and Eddie doesn’t miss the smug little smirk hiding behind Chris’ big grin. “Yeah, _mijo_ , you can have a cookie, but only if you promise to brush your teeth really well after.” Eddie brushes a finger across Chris’ nose, then looks at Buck. “Thanks for all your help today.”

“Christopher’s a natural,” he says. “You’re coming back next week for spaghetti night?”

Eddie looks to Chris. “What do you think, buddy?”

Chris nods enthusiastically.

“That answers it.” Eddie turns to Buck and his mouth is two drops away from turning into a permanent desert because Buck’s smile is warm and genuine and, dare Eddie say, relieved. 

“Sweet.” Buck rubs his hands together then claps. “All right then. Off with you two so I can start on the dishes.”

“You do all that by yourself?” Eddie’s brows shoot up. 

“Yeah. It’s too much chaos asking the class to do it. And it doesn’t take too long, so I’m happy to do it.” Buck heads toward the door and Eddie and Chris follows. “See you next week, same time, same place.”

“You bet.”

“Bye Buck,” Chris pipes up and gives Buck’s legs a quick hug, then he’s off. 

Eddie follows his son as they make their way to the door at the end of the hall. When Eddie looks over his shoulder, his eyes meet Buck’s sharp blue ones, and butterflies flutter up a storm in his stomach. 


	2. Chapter 2

Buck checks on the roast one last time before taking the whole thing out of the oven and onto a cutting board, draping tin foil over it and allowing the meat to rest. Serving dishes line the kitchen counter, and Buck checks each one to make sure everything’s perfect. 

Mashed potatoes, candied carrots, roasted brussel sprouts drizzled with a balsamic maple glaze, and a caesar salad waiting to be dressed with his from scratch caesar dressing. All that’s left is making the gravy from the roast drippings, and Sunday dinner is a go. 

“Hey, Buck.” Maddie’s voice puts a giant smile on Buck’s face, and he spins around to give his sister a hug. 

“Mads,” he chirps into her hair. “You made it.”

“Of course I made it.” Maddie wraps her arms around Buck and squeezes him tightly, then pulls away to inspect the containers on the counter. “Wouldn’t miss a Buck roast for the world. Besides, it’s going to be dinner with a view,” she says as she scans the throng of firefighters lounging about, her eyes sparkling when they land on a particularly handsome Korean one. 

Buck follows her gaze, and a chuckle bubbles from his chest. She glares at him, then steals a brussel sprout and pops it in her mouth—her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she chews—before Buck can swat her hand away. “Hng, who knew these things could taste so good.”

“Brussel sprouts are way under appreciated and way too over cooked by the average American,” Buck says. 

“Also, who knew my baby brother who used to burn toast would become such a chef?” 

“Cook. I’m not a chef.”

“You’re teaching a cooking class,” Maddie says indignantly. “In my books, that’s a chef.”

“A class for _kids_ ,” Buck scoffs. At the mention of his cooking class, an image of a certain dark-haired man with the adorable son flashes across his mind and he sucks in a sharp breath. 

_Not the time or place, Buck._

Maddie narrows her eyes at him, but he ignores her pointed look and places a sauce pan over the gas range. He drops in two pats of butter, they sizzle, then melt into an aromatic puddle. Buck scoops a couple tablespoons of flour into the melted butter and stirs until the flour dissolves into a paste. Carefully, he pours in some beef stock, home made of course, and stirs until everything is combined. 

“Whatever.” Maddie rolls her eyes again. “Go to culinary school then, I don’t care as long as you keep feeding me.”

Buck makes a noise, but he doesn’t respond. Culinary school has been on his mind, but it doesn’t call to him. Sure, he loves cooking, and ever since Bobby and Athena took him home, Bobby’s been teaching him all of his favourite recipes. From the world’s best lasagna to roast duck, there’s nothing Bobby doesn’t know how to prepare, and he’s been a patient and generous teacher. And father figure. 

One Buck desperately needed after being bounced from one foster home to another. 

The mixture in the pot blurts a small bobble, then another. Buck tips the roast drippings into the pot and stirs in a gentle figure eight, letting the heat and flour and butter bind with the drippings and stock to form a thick, luxurious gravy. He tastes some on the back of a spoon, smacks his lips, then sprinkles in a pinch of salt and freshly ground pepper. 

Maddie takes a seat at the bar and watches as Buck carefully pours the gravy into two gravy boats. “You’re making that face again,” she says, her voice gentle. 

Buck swallows. “What face?”

“The one you make every time you think about how luck you got meeting Bobby and Athena.” There’s a tinge of sadness in her voice, and maybe a little bit of envy, but it passes so quickly Buck’s not sure if he imagined it. 

“I was. They saved my life.” 

Maddie’s eyes are sad and a little watery, but she clears her throat and her bright, sunny smile is back in place. “I’m really happy for you, you know that, right?”

Buck reaches across the counter and squeezes her hand. He doesn’t know what happened to her when they got split in the system. There are a few blank years between their parents’ fatal car accident and Buck ending up with Bobby and Athena that they will never get back, and Buck’s grateful every day of his life that Athena helped him track Maddie down.

She’d aged out by then and got married. They saw each other often, but then her husband moved them away, and the emails became more and more infrequent until one day, they stopped all together. A couple years later, she shows up at Buck’s front door with nothing but a duffle bag and haunted shadows in her eyes. 

“I know, and I’m really happy you’re here with me, with us.” Buck glances over at Bobby and Athena and smiles. “Enough maudlin, the roast is well rested by now.” Buck peels the tin foil back and gives the prime rib roast a gentle poke. “Yo, everyone,” he calls out, his voice booming over the hubbub of the lounge and kitchen. “Dinner’s served.”

Maddie helps him carry all the dishes onto the large dinner table, already set with placemats. People file into the dining area just as Buck places the last gravy boat down. 

Chimney claps him on the shoulder and closes his eyes as he inhales deeply, his lips pulled into satisfied grin. “These wonderful smells have been haunting me for hours.” 

Bobby comes around and sits down at the head of the table. “If you had time to lounge around and smell food for hours, you’re not working hard enough.”

“Hey, it’s been a slow day,” Chimney counters and pulls out a chair, “and that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

Maddie slips into the chair Chimney pulled out. Chimney takes the seat next to her and gives her a soft smile. Huh. Is there’s something going on there? The rest of the one-eighteen take their seats around the table. Buck stands back until everyone’s seated before taking his spot next to Athena.

No matter how many Sunday dinners Buck prepares at the firehouse, and he’s been doing them for at least a year now, he can never get used to being surrounded by so many doms at once. Sure, there are Neutrals too, but firefighting, just like the police force, has always been a dom’s domain. 

As a Submissive, being around them makes his skin tingle and flush. Athena, the domme of the family, takes good care of him, but she’s his _mom_. These guys aren’t. And that’s both a little exciting and a lot terrifying how much he wants to get on his knees for some of them. 

Bobby carves the roast, then everyone serves themselves family style. The clatter of silverware on plates and the lack of conversation is always a good sign. Mingled with a few soft groans and moans, and Buck’s just about soaring. He loves feeding people, loves watching their faces as they take the first bite. The wonder and delight flashing across their faces makes slaving away for hours in the kitchen worth it. 

Buck serves himself a little bit of everything, but he’s careful to not take too much. A good sub keeps himself in good shape for his dom. Not that he has one right now, but when he does, he wants to be perfect for him. 

Bobby clears his throat and puts down his knife and fork, and Buck notes with pride how clean Bobby’s plate is. “I almost forgot. Let’s make sure we save some for our new recruit. Hen, could you go grab another chair and Chim, go get another plate.” Bobby checks his watch then looks over the glass railing down into the engine bay. “Ah, speak of the devil.”

He gets out of his chair and leans over the railing. “Hey, Diaz, up here.” 

The brussel sprouts freezes mid-air on its way into Buck’s open mouth. Diaz? Could it be? No fucking way. What were the chances? A dark mop of hair appears over the stairs, followed by gorgeous hazel brown eyes that’s been haunting Buck all week. Lopsided grin and chiseled jawline follow, and Buck nearly drops his fork. 

_It’s him_. 

Bobby gets up and holds out his hand. Eddie fucking Diaz takes it in a firm grip. “Everyone, I want you to meet our new recruit, Eddie Diaz.”

“Hey everyone,” he says with a blinding smile. God, his teeth are so white. “I’m Eddie, um, good to meet you all.”

A litany of heys and hellos drift from the dinner table, and Hen comes back with a chair. She places it across from Buck, then Chim comes back with a plate, a fork, and a knife. 

“Join us for dinner,” Bobby says as he takes his seat again and reaches for the roast platter. “My son here is quite the cook.”

Bobby points to Buck with the serving fork, and all heads turn to him. Buck clamps his jaw shut and blinks. Deer, meet headlights. 

“Oh, hey,” Eddie says with an excited little bounce in his step as he sits down in the empty chair. “It’s you!”

“You guys’ve met?” Maddie asks. Her voice sounds nonchalant to the untrained ear, but to Buck, it’s dripping with suspicion. 

“Yeah,” Eddie replies. “My son went to his cooking class for the first time last week. It was fantastic. He’s really looking forward to this week.” 

Maddie turns her sharp eyes on Buck, and there’s a glint there Buck does not want to explore. “I see.”

Hen and Chim hand Eddie the different serving platters until his plate is piled high with food. Eddie gives Buck a smile, then takes a bite of the roast beef smothered in gravy. Eddie’s eyelids flutter shut—his lashes fanning against his cheeks like feathers—as he tips his head back. His jaw works as he chews, and the moan that rumbles from his throat sends a jolt straight to Buck’s dick. 

“This is amazing,” he breathes. 

“Buck is our resident chef every Sunday night,” Chim pipes up as he shovels two brussel sprouts into his mouth, followed by a giant forkful of salad. He chews, swallows, then lets out a happy sigh. “Sometimes I come in for dinner even when I’m not on shift.”

A murmur of agreement rises from the table, and Buck’s chest swells. Fuck, what has he ever done to deserve the one-eighteen? 

The rest of dinner passes, and Buck’s so pleased with himself he allows himself a second helping of brussel sprouts, caesar salad, and carrots. Once everyone’s done eating, Buck is punted out of the kitchen by a group of big, burly doms who refuse to let him cook _and_ do the dishes. 

Unease picks at his skin, but Buck goes to sit in the lounge with Maddie and Athena. Even after years of being with Athena and Bobby and this unit, it’s still hard to shake off the wrongness of watching a dom do house work while he sat idle. 

Athena lays a hand on his knee and squeezes. “Thank you for dinner.” 

Her level gaze, the weight of her hand, and the heat of her palm settles the buzzing beneath Buck’s skin, and he relaxes next to her. “Nah, it’s nothing. You know I love cooking for the one-eighteen.”

“You spoil them.” Bobby’s voice pulls him from the lull of Athena’s caress, and Buck shifts out of the way so Bobby can sit down next to his wife. “Spoil us.” Bobby leans in to Athena and pecks her on the lips.

Buck shivers at the loss of her touch, but he’s grounded enough to not need it. A raucous laughter from the kitchen draws Buck’s attention, and he zeros in on the source of that laugh. Heat crawls up his neck, and his skin buzzes with a different kind of need. 

“So, uh”—Buck clears his throat—“new recruit, huh?” 

Bobby studies him with his knowing eyes, and Buck looks away. Even though Bobby’s a Neutral, he has this immense presence that can be intimidating at times. Especially when he’s entire attention is focused on Buck. “Yes. Transfer from out of state.” 

“Oh.” Buck chews on his bottom lip and watches Chim hand Eddie rinsed plates to load into the dishwasher.

He hasn’t stopped thinking about Eddie since Monday’s class. Apart from his perfect bone structure and a body that makes Buck’s dick twitch, there was something about him that drew Buck to him. He was the only dad at the cooking class, but he didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. He was patient with his son, and even helped the kid next to him whose parents couldn’t be there. It was pretty obvious Eddie had no clue what he was doing in the kitchen, but he tried, and that means a whole lot in Buck’s books. 

And those smouldering eyes. So big and bright they sucked Buck right in whenever Buck stared into them.

“Hey, Buck, you want a ride home?” Maddie voice cuts through his musing, and Buck turns his attention from the kitchen to his sister. Who is looking at him like the cat who caught the canary. 

_Shit_.

“No, it’s fine, I’m good.” He clears his throat and wills the heat in his cheeks to fuck right off.

“Uh huh. I’m sure you are,” she says with a wink and a smirk. Her smirks turns into a genuine smile when Chim comes by with a travel mug, no doubt filled to the brim with something tasty. “Hey, you ready?”

Chim nods and takes Maddie’s hand, pulling her out of her chair. “Well, thanks again, Buckaroo, for dinner. See you tomorrow, Cap.” They walk off together, shoulders bumping, and Maddie chuckles at something Chimney says. 

Buck’s lips twitch into a smile, and he can’t help the burst of warmth in his chest to see Maddie so happy. It took a long time for those shadows to leave her eyes, and even longer for her to smile again. But now she’s almost back to the Maddie he remembers before their parents died, and he’s got the one-eighteen to thank for that too. 

A shrill alarm goes off above their heads. Buck winces, and he turns to the ruffle of fabric as Bobby shoots off the couch. He gives Athena a quick kiss on the cheek, then he’s off, running behind the other firefighters toward the pole. 

Athena tracks Bobby until he disappears through the hole in the floor. There’s so much pride and love in her face. Buck sighs longingly. When will he ever find someone who would look at him like Athena looks at Bobby? Would he ever find someone who would cherish and love him that much? His eyes land on Eddie as he grips the pole, his biceps bulging and his forearm muscles shifting as he slides down, and Buck curses under his breath. 

The guy’s probably married. And even if he’s not, he’s got a kid, so he’s most likely straight, right? 

_Bisexuality is a thing, Evan Buckley_. 

Buck scowls at the little voice in his head and dismisses it. Even if all the stars align and Eddie is single and into men, what makes Buck think he’d be into _Buck_? 

He watches as the team shrug on their gear in record time and hop into the trucks. Within minutes, with sirens blaring, the trucks pull out of the station, leaving behind an eerie silence. His chest aches with a want he’s never dared to voice. Because it would be absurd. Because it’s simply _not done_. This isn’t for him; Buck has learned at a young age where his place is in this world, and it’s not inside those uniforms. 

As if sensing his distress, Athena’s warm hand lands on the back of Buck’s neck, and he shivers. With two Submissive biological children of her own, it had taken Athena no time to figure Buck out when he first joined their family, and she’s been keeping him grounded and sane since. Buck would be so lucky to find another Dominant as attentive and caring as she. 

“You’re thinking so hard there’s smoke coming outta your ears,” she says and gives his nape a squeeze. “C’mon, let’s go home.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Eddie closes his eyes and tilts his head back, opening himself fully to the thumping beat. It’s a busy Friday night at Vision, the local club members of the one-eighteen like to visit when they have a night off. Tonight it’s Chimney, Hen, and Eddie, and the other two decided that Eddie, being the probie and new to LA, needed to know where the good music is. 

They’re not wrong. The music has been fantastic, and Eddie is secretly thrilled that in another ten minutes, they’ll be switching to Latin night. Carla, bless her soul, is finally back from her trip, and Eddie can breathe easy knowing Christopher is taken care of when he takes a rare night out. Things have been a bit easier now that he can get away whenever he needs to find release, and dancing definitely fits the bill. 

He’s not sure if it’s just the way they’re wired, but he can always spot a sub on the dance floor, their body calling to him in a way that a Neutral’s doesn’t. It’s not as intimate as scening with a partner he trusts, but it takes the edge off when he’s grinding against a soft warm body, especially one that’ll mould to him in anyway he wants. 

At the thought of warm bodies, a particular man with brilliant blue eyes and a peculiar red mark pops into his head, and Eddie inhales sharply. Truth is, he hasn’t stopped thinking about Buck since Sunday dinner, and he won’t let himself dwell on the fact he’s more excited about the next cooking class than Chris. 

Chimney plops down beside him, a fresh beer in hand, and he slaps Eddie on the back. “Hey. Enjoying yourself?”

Eddie clears his throat and forces his lips into a smile. It’s not like Chimney can see into his mind, but he still feels like he’s been caught doing something naughty. “Uh, yeah. Music is fantastic.”

“Told you.” 

Eddie rolls his beer bottle between his palms and takes a deep breath. “So, Buck.”

Chimney eyes him, his expression unreadable. “Yeah?”

“Cap doesn’t look old enough to have a son that old. And how did he end up making Sunday dinners at the station?” Eddie’s trying for nonchalant, but the way Chimney’s eyes narrow makes him think it’s not working. 

“He’s not their biological son,” Chimney answers. “Bobby and Athena foster kids. They had Buck for a year before he aged out. I guess they decided to unofficially adopt him anyway. Cap taught him how to cook, and he’s been cooking Sunday dinners at the station for as long as I can remember.”

“Oh.” Eddie shifts his eyes from Chimney to his bottle, and tries to ignore the strange twist in his gut. 

“He’s a good kid. A bit bullheaded at times, but he’s got heart.” Chimney takes another sip of his beer. “And if you get funny ideas, you’ll have to answer to Mama Grant, so I suggest you tread carefully.”

“Wait, I—” Eddie flails and whacks his beer, the bottle tipping precariously. 

Chimney catches it and hands it back to Eddie with a cheeky grin. “I know that look, so don’t try to deny it,” he says as he points his chin toward the dance floor. 

Off to their left, Hen has her wife in her arms, and the way Karen looks at her makes Eddie’s chest squeeze. Has he looked at Buck like that? Eddie swallows and shakes his head. He’s only met Buck twice, there’s no way. 

Hen and Karen are so in love it’s almost gross if it isn’t the sweetest thing Eddie’s ever seen. It’s what he wants, and sometimes he’s a little envious of a Neutral couple. Things can still be complicated, but at least they don’t have to worry about dom and sub urges on top of all the other shit. 

“I gave up a long time ago.” Chimney’s voice draws Eddie’s attention back to his companion.

“Sorry?” Eddie cocks a brow at Chimney.

“Telling them to get a room.” Chimney tilts his beer bottle toward Hen and Karen and smiles. Despite his words, Chimney’s face is split in a fond smile. “They’re so gross in love it makes you wonder what you’re missing in your life, you know?” 

Eddie looks back at the couple on the dance floor. Hen’s arms are around Karen’s waist, and Karen has hers wrapped around Hen’s neck. The DJ switch happened sometime when Eddie wasn’t looking, and the thumping beat of Latin music replaces the deep base of the electronica playing minutes ago. Hen whispers something in Karen’s ear. The latter throws her head back in laughter, then brings her forehead to Hen’s as their hips move to the beat. 

“Whatever it is, maybe we’ll find it someday.” Eddie raises his bottle, and Chimney clinks it with his own, and they both drink to that sentiment. 

Chimney’s bottle freezes mid air, his eyes widen, and a smile blossoms as he looks at something or someone behind Eddie. “I think I already have.” His voice is so soft it almost gets lost in the music. 

Eddie swivels in his stool and follows Chimney’s gaze. Behind him, Maddie and Buck push through the sea of bodies. Maddie’s wearing a little black dress with tiny sparkling gems across her chest. Her long, wavy hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and her eyelids glitter under the flashing lights of the club. She’s stunning, but Eddie’s eyes are drawn to the tall figure behind her. 

Buck’s black collared shirt stretches across his broad chest, the sleeves pulled impossibly taut, and it’s tucked into a pair of blue jeans that may as well have been painted on him. His hair is a messy mop of floof, as if he had no idea he was going clubbing, and his plump lips are so red it’s like he’s wearing lipstick. Buck’s eyes meet his, and Eddie’s mouth dries at the intensity of all that blue. He swallows and rips his gaze to Maddie, his cheeks burning. 

She’s smiling at Chimney like he hung the moon. 

“Maddie,” Chimney hops off the bar stool and gathers Maddie into his arms. They cling to each other a minute longer than an usual greeting hug, and when they pull apart, Eddie can’t help but feel like he’s peeping in on something private. Buck steps up beside him, one hand in the pocket of his tight jeans, his other extended toward Eddie.

“Hey, didn’t know you were gonna be here,” he says. 

Eddie takes the offered hand, and when their palms touch, a jolt unlike electricity runs up his arm. He licks his dry lips and tries to still his rapidly beating heart. “Hey. I didn’t know you and Maddie were coming either.”

Buck’s hand is warm, his grip solid, and for a second, it seems neither of them want to let go. 

“Mads didn’t tell me we were going out until we were half way here,” Buck says and rolls his eyes. He lets go of Eddie’s hand, and Eddie shivers at the loss of heat and contact. “She told me we were getting Mexican food.”

“You wear _that_ to get Mexican food?” Eddie points at Buck’s too-tight shirt, and wonders if all his shirts are a size too small in the chest and biceps.

Buck blushes, his mouth opening, but Maddie cuts him off. 

“It’s the only way I can get this guy out of the house sometimes.” She looks over at them and smiles sheepishly. “Sometimes I think he forgets he’s still young.” She pats Buck’s chest, then turns and drags Chimney onto the dance floor. 

Chimney’s arms snake around Maddie’s slender waist, and the two of them become so plastered together maybe _they_ need to get a room. 

“So—” Buck’s voice pulls Eddie from watching his two co-workers dirty dance with their partners. “You’re new, huh?”

Eddie nods. “Yup. New to LA, too.”

Buck’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? Where’d you move from? Why’d you move?”

“Texas,” Eddie replies. He pauses, sips his half empty beer, and stares at the dance floor before continuing. “My wife died. I needed a job, and LAFD was hiring probies fresh out of the academy, so here I am.” 

It’s not like Eddie to share his personal life with people, but he likes Buck. Has liked Buck the moment Buck stole Chris’ heart that night at the community centre. It’s pretty cliche to like a person who likes your kid, but when the world is so cruel to Chris, Eddie can’t help but have a soft spot for those who take the extra time to treat his boy with kindness and respect. 

Buck’s face does a complicated dance of emotions, and Eddie would laugh if bringing up Shannon didn’t still feel like a knife in his chest, twisting until his vision blurred. 

“Shit, man,” Buck says with a shake of his head, “I’m so sorry.”

Eddie shrugs and takes another swig of his beer, draining the bottle. “It’s okay. It’s been over a year.” 

Buck frowns. “Still, that’s gotta be so rough on Christopher, too.”

At the mention of his son, Eddie’s gut twists. “Yeah, he’s been putting on a brave face. Didn’t complain or anything when we up and left. But I know he’s hurting.”

“Is that why you’re taking him to the cooking classes?” 

Eddie looks at Buck, really _looks_ at him, and chuckles. “You’re smarter than you let on.”

“Hey”—Buck shoves him in the shoulder—“I’ll have you know I’m plenty smart.” 

Eddie laughs, and after a second, Buck joins. The tightness in Eddie’s chest lessens a little, and the twinkle in Buck’s eyes eases him further. He’s not sure what it is about Buck, but the guy’s so genuine and open and _vulnerable_ that Eddie can’t help but gravitate toward him. As if being close to Buck makes the colours in the world pop just a little brighter. 

When they stop laughing, Buck excuses himself and comes back from the bar with another beer for Eddie and one for himself. They clink bottles and share a long pull together. This is Eddie’s third beer, and while he’s not a lightweight, it has been ages since he last had a drink. The alcohol warms him from the inside out, and with Buck sitting so close their knees bump under the table, his skin tingles with a kind of heat he hasn’t felt since Shannon died. 

The music, some remix version of a song his abuela used to play around the house, changes to something with a driving, sensual beat. A beat Eddie knows well. His fingers twitch, and his body turns toward the dance floor as if uttering a silent plea. Eddie glances at the throng of bodies on the dance floor, catching the eye of a woman he’d shared more than one dance with earlier in the night. He should go to her, but something holds him back.

Or rather, someone. 

Eddie glances at Buck, at the way his eyes slit and his lips hang slightly parted as he soaks up the beat, and something zaps through Eddie. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the music flowing through him, but whatever it is, it’s making Eddie braver than he has in a long time. 

He hops off his stool, his sudden movement drawing Buck’s attention, and holds out his hand. “Wanna dance?” 

Buck’s eyes pop impossibly wide, and the blush on his cheeks spread down into the collar of his shirt. “W-What? Serious?”

That’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either, and the meek way Buck crosses his legs gives Eddie another boost of courage. “Yeah, c’mon. Dance with me.” He beckons with a tilt of his head and grins. 

Buck’s gaze flicks between the dance floor and Eddie’s offered hand, and it’s another agonizing moment before he lays his fingers gingerly on top of Eddie’s palm. “Okay, but I’ve never done this before. I don’t want to—”

“Don’t worry about it. You wouldn’t be the first to step on my toes. Just follow my lead.” Eddie curls his fingers around Buck’s hand, squeezing tightly, before pulling them both into the middle of the mob of gyrating people on the dance floor. 

It’s more cramped than it looked from the outside, but Eddie’s not complaining as he lays a hand on the small of Buck’s back and pulls him close. Buck’s eyes widen, and the tip of his tongue flicks out, moistening his slightly chapped lips. His lashes fan out over his cheeks with every blink, and his eyes are trained on Eddie’s feet as Eddie starts with an easy front and back step. 

Buck’s nails dig into Eddie’s shoulders in a death grip, and his whole body is one rigid board of tension. Eddie closes his eyes and counts to five, letting his body meld with the beat until his limbs are one with the music. He pries Buck’s hands from his shoulders and wrap Buck’s arms around his neck, his own hands finding purchase on Buck’s back, and starts to move.

It’s slow going at first, but Buck’s a quick learner, and before the song’s over, they’re both moving to the thumping music like one fluid entity. Bodies press into Eddie’s back, and he can feel them push against Buck, forcing them closer and closer until Buck’s breath tickles Eddie’s cheek. Buck’s taller than Eddie by a couple inches, maybe, but the way he holds himself against Eddie, the way he melts into Eddie’s arms and moulds around Eddie’s body gives Eddie pause. 

Is Buck a sub? 

Eddie doesn’t have time to dwell on that fleeting thought. The next song starts with the clear notes of a single plucked guitar, and Eddie’s hips take on a life of their own. Percussions join that guitar, and soon, complex layers of electronica flow in to make one singular driving beat. Eddie loses himself in the grind of Buck’s body, the sway of Buck’s hips, the shuffling of Buck’s feet as he matches Eddie’s every move. 

Those arms around his neck relaxes. Idle hands card through Eddie’s hair, nails leaving tantalizing trails of prickling pain along Eddie’s scalp. Buck’s breath is sweet against Eddie’s cheek, and his broad chest rises and falls in time with the music. Eddie’s mind empties, giving his body full agency as muscle memory takes him back to a time before Chris, before Shannon, before the army. Back when it was just him and his music and his dancing shoes. 

He’s floating, his muscles and Buck carrying him so high he’s lightheaded. People move out of the way as they begin to take up space, their limbs moving in sync as they circle each other, their steps measured and sure. And Buck is so goddamn _sensual_. Everything about him calls to Eddie. His glistening lips, his hooded eyes, his tongue as it flicks out to taste the air. The solid press of him as he relinquishes control of his arms, his legs, his entire body for Eddie to move and place as he sees fit.

Somewhere in the back of his head, he’s amazed at the way Buck follows his every silent command. At the way Buck reacts to Eddie’s movements with only the slightest nudge. If Buck hadn’t told him he’s never danced, Eddie would have never guessed this was his first time dancing kizomba. 

Sure, there are some movements Buck doesn’t know, but Eddie can teach him. Can make him the best dance partner Eddie’s had in years, if not ever. 

The thought jolts Eddie back down to earth, and he blinks into the harsh flashing lights even as his body continues to move. His breath catches, and for a slow second, Eddie panics. Was…was he really in _that_ space just now? Buck makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, half moan, half whimper, and Eddie’s heart rate jacks up to a hundred. 

Buck’s eyes are glassy, the pupils blown so wide there’s hardly any blue left. His cheeks and neck are flushed. His lips are parted, his breathing shallow, and he looks more drunk than he should be after only one beer. 

_Holy shit._

Eddie slows his steps. His legs shake, and his quads and glutes burn as if he’d done a billion squats. He takes Buck in his arms gently, afraid that if he held on too tightly he’d break him, and leads them both off the dance floor. He’s not sure how many songs they danced to, but when he looks around, Chimney and Hen and their respective partners are nowhere in sight. 

Finding an empty table, Eddie carefully helps Buck, who’s got the biggest and softest grin on his face, into a chair. Shit. Shit shit shit. Eddie sucks down deep gulps of humid air, trying to still the panic bubbling under his skin, and pulls out his phone to find three texts. One from Hen and two from Chimney.

_Don’t have too much fun probie. Still got work tomorrow. Karen and I are bouncing, see you at the station tomorrow._

Eddie checks the time in the upper corner of his phone and curses. It’s quarter after midnight. Carla won’t mind, but he still feels bad. 

_Hey, you guys looked like you were having fun, so Maddie’s gonna take me home. Make sure you get that kid home safe or else Cap’ll put you on bathroom duty for the rest of your life._

Under the text is another with an address. Eddie turns the screen off and slips his phone back into his back pocket. He studies Buck and swallows. Hard. He’s so deep in sub space Eddie’s not sure how to pull him out. Is it even safe to pull him out right now? Eddie curses and pinches the bridge of his nose. How did he let this happen? Why wasn’t he paying attention? 

The music changes to something thumpy, and the beat drives the beginnings of a headache into something sharp and persistent. Eddie takes a deep breath, then another, and shuts his eyes from the strobing lights. He needs to get his shit together if he wants to get Buck home in one piece. 

It takes him a few more shuddering breaths before Eddie feels well enough to open his eyes, and when he does, he finds Buck’s brilliant blues on him. He tries for a smile, but the muscles in his jaw fights even that small gesture. Eddie needs to get Buck home, then get home himself and _fix_ this, or else he’ll be a mess tomorrow at work. 

He studies Buck and guilt punches through him. If he’s feeling this wrecked now, he doesn’t want to imagine how badly Buck will feel once he comes out of sub space. Especially since Eddie won’t be there to ease him from it. The thought rankles, but there’s nothing Eddie can do. Buck’s not his sub, and after tonight, he wouldn’t blame Buck if he never wants to Eddie again. No one wants a dom who can’t get a hold of his own emotions. 

Eddie reaches for Buck’s hand and pulls him to his feet. “Hey,” he says, but the music is so loud it drowns out his voice, and he doesn’t want to shout at someone who’s so blissed out. With a shaky sigh, Eddie takes Buck’s elbow and heads for the exit. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am an idiot and forgot today was Friday!! It's 11:42pm PST Friday, so...still counts xD!!

Everything is soft. And he’s warm. And he can feel the molecules in the air bouncing off his skin as he stumbles after Eddie. 

Eddie, who’s got him by the elbow, his grip the only thing anchoring Buck to Earth. 

A breeze ruffles through Buck’s hair, leaving behind a cool, tantalizing trail that has him shivering. Buck’s whole body is burning, like liquid fire through his veins, and everything is hypersensitive. And he’s floating, always floating. 

Buck has no clue where they’re going, but he puts one foot in front of the other like a good boy, like the kind of good boy any dom would want to cherish and keep. Somewhere, some hour ago, Buck had pieced together that Eddie’s probably a dom, and some minutes after that, Buck was floating. 

A tiny part of him is a little alarmed at the cotton state of his mind, but he doesn’t have the energy or the will to focus on that. Every atom of his being wants to please Eddie. To get on his knees and bow his head. To beg for a grounding touch because he’s floating. 

They stop moving. Buck blinks and tries to take in his surroundings. Tall buildings and palm trees and people passing them by, their bodies a blur of movement as Buck stands still. A sharp beep brings Buck back to focus, briefly, then Eddie’s hands are on him, urging Buck to bend down and get in the truck. 

The leather squeals as Buck settles in, and he beams up at Eddie through his lashes as Eddie leans close to snap Buck’s seatbelt in place. Metal clicks on metal, then Eddie’s looking down at Buck. A halo of street light spills around Eddie, casting soft shadows across Eddie’s gorgeous face. 

God, he’s so pretty, yet masculine with his square jaw and thick, luscious brows. And his hair. Buck just wants to reach up and touch it, run his fingers through it, and stroke each silky strand. The idea of that, the thought of touching a dom in that way, sends a shiver down Buck’s spine, and his face heats impossibly warm. 

Eddie touches his face, and Buck can’t help the soft whimper escaping his lips. He leans into that touch, savouring the smoothness and heat of Eddie’s skin. Too soon, that touch pulls away, and Buck frowns as the truck door slams shut. 

Did he do something wrong? He shouldn’t have made that noise. He should have been good. 

The driver side door opens, and Eddie slips behind the wheel before shutting the door with a bang. It reverberates through Buck, sending more shivers through him.

“Buck.” Eddie turns to him, and Buck forces himself to make eye contact. “Buck, you are cold?”

Is he? He’s not sure, but he nods, because that’s probably the answer Eddie wants. 

Eddie reaches behind him and rummages around the backseat. Buck glances over his shoulder. There’s a blanket draped over a booster seat. That must be Christopher’s seat and his blanket. He shouldn’t. It doesn’t belong to him, but when Eddie wraps the soft, fluffy thing around his shoulders, Buck sags. 

It’s not the same as a hug, but it’s pretty damn close. Buck closes his eyes and pretends that it’s Eddie’s body on top of him. Eddie’s heat wrapping around him and holding him down. The engine roars to life, the vibrations thrumming through Buck, then they’re moving. Going where, Buck’s not sure. And he doesn’t care. Nothing matters except this weighted warmth on top of him, and maybe that should scare him, but he’s not afraid with Eddie sitting next to him. 

Eddie, whom Buck couldn’t stop thinking about ever since that first night he stepped into Buck’s classroom. Be it fate or a cruel joke that this same Eddie turns out to be a firefighter at the one-eighteen so Buck gets to see him not just once at the cooking classes, but twice a week when they share Sunday dinners together. 

Buck needs to find out what Eddie’s favourite foods are. 

Street lamps fly past them as Eddie speeds down the highway. Buck stares out the window, his head lolling against the glass, is semi-translucent reflection staring dreamily back at him. LA at night is so damn pretty. And Buck’s floating through the streets as if he’s weightless. Well, at least he feels like he’s floating.

Busy streets give way to quieter ones. Eventually, they turn on a road Buck recognizes. Home. They’re heading home. His home. How does Eddie know where he lives? 

A warm hand lands on Buck’s knee, and all traces of confusion flies out the window. Eddie squeezes, and the strength flowing from those fingers leaves Buck lightheaded. Christ, has Eddie’s hands always been this strong? 

The truck rolls to a stop, and Buck turns to find his house, Bobby and Athena’s house, a short driveway’s length away. They’re home. 

“Buck, hey, buddy,” Eddie’s voice sounds far away. Buck rips his gaze from the beautiful squat house that he gets to call home and turns to Eddie with a smile. “Let’s get you home, okay?”

Buck can’t quite make out the expression on Eddie’s face, but something isn’t quite right. Maybe it’s the tick of Eddie’s jaw, or the slight pinch of his brows, or the way his eyes are darting everywhere and avoiding Buck. The warm and fuzzies dampen a little, and the glare of streetlamp right outside the house comes into sharp focus. 

Eddie reaches for the blanket around Buck’s shoulders, but Buck recoils, and something cold settles in his stomach. He did something. He’s not sure what, but he wasn’t good, and now Eddie wants his blanket back. 

He should give it back, it’s not his, but something snaps in Buck and he clutches onto the blanket as if it’s the only thing keeping him safe. Eddie gives him another strange look, shakes his head, then gets out of the car. Buck’s door opens, and Eddie’s big, warm hand is on his elbow once more. 

The touch settles him, and he lets Eddie lead him from the truck, down the driveway, and to the front door. The door opens before Buck could find his keys. Athena stands in the doorway, her expression hardening when she lays eyes on Buck and Eddie, and the smile on her lips dies. 

“What’s going on here?” she asks, her eyes like lasers as she looks from Buck to Eddie back to Buck. 

“Um, we were out and we got carried away dancing and lost track of time,” Eddie says. Is there a tinge of nervousness in his voice?

“You and I both know that’s not what I’m talking about.” Athena grips Buck’s hand and pulls him into the house. The blanket flutters as she pulls him behind her, then she squares her shoulders. Buck’s vaguely reminded of a mother hen protecting her chicks. But that can’t be, because that would make Buck a baby chick. 

And Buck is no fluffy yellow ball of high-pitched fierceness. 

Eddie shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “I…I don’t know what happened. Or even how. But he’s under for sure. Has been for a couple hours now I think.”

“You think?”

“I’m—I’m really sorry. I don’t know what happened.” Eddie’s eyes are hard and he looks pained, and that pain spears right through Buck. “You—you’re a domme, yes? Can you look after him? Please?”

“Damn right I can.” Athena makes to close the door, but she pauses, and Buck can hardly hold himself upright. “Are you okay?”

Eddie nods and shivers. “Yeah. I think so.”

Another long, weighted pause as if Athena is giving Eddie her mean cop stare down, and Eddie shrinks on the doorstep. “Did you go into D—”

“I’m fine,” Eddie cuts in, his hands waving in front of him as if that’s supposed to be some reassuring gesture. It’s not. 

“You take care of yourself, Eddie,” Athena sighs and shakes her head. 

“I will. Just, please, ease him out of it, okay?” 

“I will.” Athena nods, then shuts the door with a quiet click. 

And that’s the last time Buck hears Eddie’s voice. 

===

He doesn’t remember passing out, but he does remember waking up to the itch under his skin. Like ants marching  _ in _ his flesh and he can’t reach it no matter how hard he tries. 

Athena told him it’s sub drop, and Buck’s read about it in Submissive Etiquette back in school, but he’s never experienced it, and it fucking sucks. 

The feeling lessens when he’s around Athena, who knows how to keep him busy to keep his mind off of it, but when she’s gone, and he’s left to his own devices, that itch comes and goes unchecked. It’s been two weeks and he has tried everything, from meditation to exercise to head-banging to death metal to baking until he used up the whole five-pound bag of sugar. Nothing helps, and he’s getting so desperate he just bought a crochet hook because someone in some YouTube video said crocheting helps him when he drops. 

Of course, many others say the only way to get over sub drop is to get in touch with their doms. But Buck can’t do that. Eddie’s not his dom. Also, Eddie hasn’t exactly made it easy for Buck to find him; he hasn’t shown up for the last two cooking classes, sending Christopher here with his sitter, Carla instead, and he wasn’t around for Sunday dinners either. 

Buck sighs and checks the clock hanging on the back wall of the classroom. Kids will be showing up in twenty minutes. This is their last class before the new year, and as much as Buck knows Christopher has enjoyed the classes, he’s not sure if Eddie will sign him up for more. 

Sadness and guilt washes through him. Christopher seems to love cooking so much, it would be a shame if he doesn’t get to do more classes because of what happened between him and his dad. Even though Buck’s not one hundred percent sure what happened, either. 

Going into sub space with someone he’d only just met was stupid and dangerous, but he didn’t do it on purpose. By the time he realized what was happening, it was too late. The rest of the night comes back to him in fuzzy pieces, and he’s not sure if those soft memories he has of being close to Eddie, of Eddie’s breath on his skin, of Eddie’s hand on the small of his back, are all tinted because of the state of his mind that night. 

Buck thought there was something between them. Judging by the way Eddie had checked him out when he arrived at the club, there was definitely a spark before his biology kicked in and fucked it up. 

Eddie’s made it pretty clear how he feels about Buck  _ now _ by not showing up at all. 

Buck shakes his head and checks the ingredients stacked on his demonstration counter once more. Maybe it’s a good thing Eddie’s keeping his distance. It gives Buck time to cool his jets and clear his head. He can nip this stupid crush he has on Eddie in the bud before it becomes something embarrassing, which would be a hundred times harder to do if Eddie’s around all the time. 

“Hi Buck,” Amanda shouts as she runs through the door, her skinny little arms wrapping around Buck’s waist. 

“Amanda!” Buck squats and collects the girl into his arms, giving her a big squeeze before grabbing her shoulders and pulling back to get a good look at her. “Oh whoa, did you finally lose that first tooth?”

Amanda beams and pushes the tip of her tongue into the gap where her front tooth used to be. “Uh huh, and the Tooth Fairy gave me two dollars for it!” 

Buck looks from Amanda to her mom and cocks his brows. “Two dollars, huh?”

She blushes and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Cost of a candy bar these days.”

“Ah,” Buck says and straightens. “Makes sense.” 

Amanda and her mom goes to their usual spot along the second bench and start to set up their station according to the instructions Buck has already laid out at every station. More kids pour into the classroom, their mothers in tow, and Buck finds himself looking forward to seeing Christopher and his sitter. 

Carla is loud and funny and the warmest, friendliest, and most genuine person Buck has ever met, the fact she’s got sass in spades is a bonus. It’s obvious she loves Christopher like her own, and only after two classes, she’s decided to take Buck under her wing too. Buck doesn’t mind, actually kind of likes it because Carla reminds him of his mother. 

Buck hears the  _ tap tap tap  _ of Christopher’s crutches seconds before the boy comes through the door, a world class smile plastered on his face. He rushes over and kneels in front of the boy, his arms open in invitation. Christopher flings himself into Buck’s arms and squeezes him tight. 

“Hey, bud,” Buck says as he pulls back. “Ready for some sugar cookies?”

Christopher nods in that enthusiastic way Buck’s come to love. “So ready, and so is daddy.” 

Buck freezes as a pair of combat boots step into his field of vision. His head snaps up and his gaze land on a pair of bright hazel eyes. “Eddie?”

Eddie’s tongue flicks out, moistening his lips, and his cheeks grow pinker by every passing second. His chest heaves as if he’s trying to catch his breath, and his fists clench and unclench beside him.  _ Huh. Strange. _

“Buck, hey,” Eddie says, and his voice is tighter than an over-strung guitar. 

Buck straightens and gives Christopher a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Why don’t you go and start setting all the containers on the table?” 

Christopher nods, and off he goes straight for the station right in front of Buck’s demo counter where Buck placed them the first night they showed up. He waits until Christopher is out of earshot before turning to Eddie. “Look who finally decides to show up.” Buck didn’t mean for his words to come out so scathing, but that itch flares under his skin at the mere thought of Eddie, having him here, this close, in his  _ space _ , is going to be torturous. 

And rage inducing, apparently. 

Eddie grimaces, but he doesn’t back down or look away, instead, his steady gaze is apologetic and…fearful? “I…Carla couldn’t make it tonight.”

“Is that right?” Buck crosses his arms and digs his nails into his arms, willing— _ begging _ —the irritating march of ants to fuck right off. “It must be inconvenient for you.” He knows it takes two to tango, and that what happened the other night and what’s happening to him now isn’t entirely Eddie’s fault, but the resentment is still there, the pain of rejection worsening every day instead of fading with time. 

Athena told him Eddie asked her to take care of him, so Eddie knew Buck was lost in sub space. Knew Buck could have dropped and still he did nothing. Worse, he started avoiding Buck like some sort of plague. And that really pisses him off. 

_ Okay, Buckley, cool your goddamn jets. _

Eddie swallows, and Buck can’t help but notice the glimpse of haunted shadows in his eyes. What’s going on? “I’m sorry. We should go—”

He makes to call for Christopher, but Buck will be damned if he’s letting whatever this bullshit is between them ruin Christopher’s night. His hand snaps out and grips Eddie’s bicep, stopping whatever Eddie was about to say. 

“Look”—Buck sighs and drops his hand—“it’s the last class. Let’s not ruin it for him.” He glances over his shoulder, and the annoyance simmering inside him disappears, replaced by a fierce fondness.

Buck gets attached to his kids, it happens, but he’s never grown  _ this _ attached  _ this _ quickly to anyone before. There’s something about Christopher that brightens Buck’s day just by him being here. He’s so enthusiastic, so genuine, and so eager to learn. It’s as if there’s this goodness inside him that shines through, and it touches Buck in a way Buck hasn’t felt since before his parents died. 

All that is to day, Buck loves this kid, and he’ll fight even Eddie to make sure Christopher gets his damn sugar cookies. 

Eddie swallows again and looks over Buck’s shoulder. His face softens, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and Buck cranks his neck and looks in the same direction. Christopher is arranging the containers of flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in a neat row. The measuring cups are already laid out, and so are the mixing bowls. 

“Okay,” Eddie murmurs, then clears his throat. Buck turns his attention back to Eddie. “Okay. We’ll stay.” 

Buck nods, and for the first time in two weeks, those goddamn ants take a lunch break.


	5. Chapter 5

The roaring headache he’s had for two weeks takes a back seat as he helps Chris mix the butter and sugar together. He’s not sure if it’s the migraine drugs he took earlier finally kicking in or what, but the lack of pounding pain behind his eyes leaves his knees weak. He hands the bowl and electric beater to Chris. 

“Here, _mijo_ , you wanna take over?”

Chris grabs the mixer handle and beams up at Eddie. “Yeah.”

Eddie watches as Chris slowly swirls the sugar and butter until it’s a fluffy paste. Chris stops the beater and looks up at Eddie, waiting for him to drop in the egg and milk before turning the mixer back on. 

The droning whir of the motor of nine electric beaters should be irritating, but Eddie’s so lost in the blissful reprieve of painlessness he hardly notices the noise. Buck is at the station next to them, helping the boy who was here by himself during their first class. He’s alone tonight as well. 

Buck cracks the eggs and pours in the milk while the boy moved the beater around the bowl, then he straightens and scans the class, his eyes deliberately _not_ meeting Eddie’s, and calls out, “Okay, now take your sifted dry ingredients and add them to the bowl slowly.”

“Just like how you did it earlier?” Chris asks.

Buck turns to them and smiles at _Chris_ , still avoiding Eddie. “Yeah, just like that. Ask for help if you need it.”

Eddie sighs and picks up the bowl with their sifted flour, baking powder, and salt and dumps it slowly into the bowl while Chris continues to mix. 

Buck’s angry at him. Eddie expected as much, but having Buck _actually_ give him the cold shoulder hurts on a level Eddie doesn’t want to examine too closely. He didn’t know how to approach Buck after what happened. What dom worth his salt would have accidentally slipped into dom space and dragged his sub into sub space with him unprepared? Buck could have gotten hurt, he could have dropped, hard, and the only consolation Eddie has is that Athena is a domme who can look after him. 

He still should have checked up on Buck. Should have gotten his number from Bobby and called or even texted. Should have apologized for letting things get so out of hand. Instead, he did what he does best and ran like a fucking coward. 

Just like before. 

His gut twists and disappointment hits for the hundredth time in two weeks. There was a small spark between them that could have burned brightly if he’d nurtured it, but Eddie went and stomped all over it with his incompetence. No sub in their right mind would want Eddie after what happened, and Buck deserves so much more, deserves someone so much better. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and tries to focus on the task at hand. Make the damn cookies, then get the hell out of here. He still wants Chris to take cooking classes, but maybe there will be a different session with a different instructor, or maybe he’ll just have to make sure Carla can take Chris to as many classes as she can. 

As for Sunday dinners…Eddie will deal with that when the time comes. 

The rest of the class passes agonizingly slow. Buck comes by and chats with Chris, giving him tips on how to peel the cookies off the parchment paper and how to check for doneness. Eddie can feel Buck’s eyes on him when he thinks Eddie’s not looking, and every time their eyes meet, Buck looks away as if their gazes locking physically hurts him. 

Eddie checks the cookies in the toaster oven and inhales. The classroom smells like vanilla, sugar, and butter, and it brings him back to when he was Chris’ age and his mom used to bake all sorts of goodies around Christmas time. He closes his eyes and pretends he’s back in her kitchen now, standing on tippy toes on his stool as he tries to catch a glimpse of her sugar cookies and scones and pastries, and if he was lucky, she’d slip him a treat or two. 

Things were so easy back then, when he didn’t present as a Dominant or a Submissive. When he could just be a dumb kid with dumb ideals about the world. 

The timer on the toaster oven dings, and Chris claps his hands, dragging Eddie back to the present. “ _Ay, mijo,_ get your oven mitts on.”

Chris struggles with the oversized mitts, but eventually he gets them up past his elbows and Eddie opens the oven door. A puff of hot air blasts Eddie in the face, and the headache that’s been simmering in the background creeps forward again and throbs behind his eyes. Fan-fucking-tastic. 

Eddie helps Chris arrange the cookies on a wire rack to cool, then leans a hip against the bench and tries to breathe through the blinding pain. A soft whine echoes in his ears, the sound growing in decibel until it’s all he can hear, and it is deafening in its shrillness. Eddie shuts his eyes against the lights, and grips the bench tightly with both hands as he forces air into his lungs, doing his best to keep from panicking. The last thing he wants is the whole room focused on him, or god forbid, someone calls 9-1-1. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. 

In. Out. In. Out. 

Until the sharp pain behind his eyes dulls around the edges and that shrill whine subsides enough for the hubbub of the classroom to filter through. Eventually, when the bright spots fade and the ringing in his ears disappears and he can see and hear clearly again, their station is cleared away, and the classroom is empty save for him, Chris, and Buck. 

Buck, whose concerned face is inches from his, so close Eddie can make out the faint red mark hidden in his eyebrow, bridging the two larger spots over his eye and close to his temple. So close Eddie can smell the sweetness of sugar cookies on his warm breath. 

“Eddie? Eddie.” Buck’s voice is urgent. 

He’s on the floor. When and how did he get down here? There’s pressure on his arms, and Eddie frowns when his eyes focus on Buck’s fingers digging into his biceps. He wants to respond, but his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth. 

“Daddy?” Chris comes into his field of vision, and Eddie swallows the wave of guilt threatening to drown him. Chris’ brows are furrowed, and his face is scrunched up with concern. Fuck. It should be his job being concerned for his son, not the other way around. “Daddy, are you okay?”

Eddie swallows and struggles to get up, but Buck’s strong hands pin him down. “I’m fine, buddy,” he says to Chris, then swings his gaze to Buck. “I’m okay.”

“The hell you are,” Buck retorts, his hold on Eddie’s arms firm. “Sorry I didn’t notice sooner, but you don’t look so hot.” 

Eddie sighs and stops struggling. The truth is, he’s not sure his legs can hold him up just yet. Buck’s hands fall from his arms when he’s sure Eddie isn’t going to get up, and Eddie misses the touch instantly. He wants Buck’s hands on him, hasn’t felt so grounded in two damn weeks. But he can’t ask that of Buck, not after what happened. 

Besides, there’s someone else here who needs Eddie to get his shit together. He turns to Chris and musses his hair then pulls him into his lap, kissing the top of his head and hoping it’s enough to reassure Chris that he’s fine. “Sorry I worried you.”

“Is it the headaches again?” Chris cranes his neck around and reaches up to touch Eddie’s cheek. 

Eddie shivers and leans into Chris’ hand before steeling himself. “Yeah, but it’s passed and I’m okay, promise.” He swallows and hopes Buck doesn’t ask about the headaches, but one look at his stern face and that hope gets dashed against a bed of rocks. 

“Headaches?” he asks, his thick arms crossed over his broad chest, his stormy blue eyes narrow and suspicious. “Did they happen to start two weeks ago?”

Eddie looks away, his cheeks warm, and nods. 

He really is fucking pathetic. Not only did he drag a sub into sub space then abandon him, he fell out of dom space so hard he’s been reeling from it ever since. It’s just endorphins, not rocket science, so why can’t he snap out of it? 

“Fuck,” Buck mutters, then looks contrite as he glances at Chris. “I mean, Eddie, shi—shoot, man, did you drop, too?” 

Eddie stares at Buck as if he’s grown three heads. Drop? “As in, dom drop?” And, wait, what did he mean _too_? “Wait, did you—”

Buck presses a finger to Eddie’s lips and shakes his head, and his entire demeanour changes in that split second. Gone is the hostility in his eyes and the tension in his broad shoulders. Buck sighs, and Eddie can see his body relax. “Yeah, looks like we both did.” 

“I thought Athena’s taking care of you.” 

“She _has_ been. When she’s around it’s not so bad, but she’s my _mom_ , Eddie. She can only do so much.” Buck looks away as a faint blush makes its way down his neck, and the words unspoken between them ring loud and clear. 

He needed Eddie to bring him down, and judging by the way Eddie’s been the past two weeks, Eddie needed Buck, too. Bile rises in the back of his throat, and Eddie tries to swallow past it. He did it again, ran when he should have faced the music. Ran when he should have taken responsibility for his actions. 

And despite everything he’s done, here’s Buck, cautious eyes still swimming with concern. Buck, who didn’t want to ruin a fun night for Chris despite his personal upset. Buck, who’s on the floor now still giving Eddie the light of day when it’s in his every right to never talk to Eddie again. 

He shouldn’t, he doesn’t have the right, but his whole body yearns, and he can’t help himself when he reaches across the space above Chris’ head and touches Buck’s jaw with a tentative finger. Buck shivers, then turns his brilliant blue eyes on Eddie once more. God, they’re so fucking alive with emotion it takes Eddie’s breath away. Beautiful. 

“I’m sorry.” Those two little words spill so easily from his lips Eddie wonders why he didn’t say them sooner. He swallows again, and this time, his throat works a little easier. “I shouldn’t have stayed away. I had no idea. I should’ve—I could’ve—”

Buck leans into the touch with a slight tilt of his head; it’s a silent forgiveness Eddie doesn’t deserve, and it stops the words spilling from his mouth. “And I should have reached out, I guess, I knew it goes both ways but I was so wrapped up in my own shi—stuff.” 

Something snaps into place inside Eddie’s chest, inside his entire body, and the insistent headache that’s been plaguing him for the past two weeks recedes into nothing. Two week’s worth of tension and irritation and that feeling of _not quite right_ disappears. The relief is so immense Eddie wants to cry, wants to curls into Buck and bury himself in Buck’s scent and warmth. 

Instead, he cups Buck’s cheek and allows himself what little warmth he can get from that contact. He hardly deserves that much. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who should be taking care of you.” 

Buck shrugs, and this time, the press of his cheek against Eddie’s palm is unmistakably affectionate. “For what it’s worth…I really enjoyed dancing with you.”

Eddie’s cheeks heat, and the stroke of his thumb across the blush on Buck’s cheeks is involuntary. “I…I did too. A lot.” 

They sit like that—with Chris in Eddie’s lap, and Eddie’s hand caressing Buck’s cheek—for what feels like a lifetime. The silence between them is pregnant with so many things unsaid. So many things Eddie’s too afraid to say. So many things he doesn’t dare to wish to hear from Buck. They stare at each other, and it’s as if some sort of understanding passes between them through Eddie’s palm on Buck’s cheek. 

“Daddy,” Chris pipes up. “Can we get up now? My legs are going to sleep.”

Chris’ voice shatters the fragile moment, and both Eddie and Buck snaps their eyes away and fusses about getting off the cold floor. 

“Sorry, _mijo_ ,” Eddie says as he pushes to his feet. He takes Chris’ hands and pull him up, wincing when Chris wobbles before catching himself. Buck hands him his crutches, and Chris loops them onto his arms before leaning heavily on them. “Do you need to rest?” 

Chris shakes his head and smiles up at them both. “I’m fine.” 

“Atta boy.” Buck ruffles Chris’ dark blond curls then rolls up his sleeves and glances to the back of the classroom. “Guess I better get started on those.” He points at the pile of dirty dishes with the jut of his chin. “Hopefully we’ll see you in the new year?” 

Eddie looks to Chris, who’s looking at him with open hopefulness in his face, and nods. “Yeah, of course. I can’t cook to save my life, might as well have someone who won’t burn down the house teaching Christopher.” 

Buck laughs and winks. “I’m sure the one-eighteen would love to get that call.” Buck makes his way to the sinks and turns on the water. 

Eddie looks to Chris, and an idea forms. “ _Ay, mijo_ , wanna help?” 

Chris’ eyes glow like Christmas lights and nods so hard Eddie’s dizzy just watching him. Eddie helps Chris roll up his sleeves, then they join a startled Buck at the sink with Chris between them. 

“Want some help?” Chris asks. 

Buck looks from Chris to Eddie then back down at Chris, and a slow smile splits his gorgeous face. “Hell yeah.” He hands Chris a sponge, then turns that blinding smile on Eddie. It’s like staring into the sun. “If you want to tackle the mixing bowls, Chris and I will take care of the utensils and whisks?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Eddie reaches for the last sponge on the counter, squirts a generous amount of soap into the sink, and turns on the hot water. 

There are a lot of dirty dishes between twelve stations, and Eddie wonders how long it takes Buck to clean all this up on his own. The three of them talk about a whole lot of nothing from Chris wanting to take surfing lessons to which Disney movie is the best (it’s a toss between _Moana_ , _Frozen_ , and _Brave_ , even though Buck admits _Inside Out_ is his all time favourite).

At some point, Buck and Chris switch places, and Eddie finds himself bumping shoulders with Buck. The heat of his body is incredible despite the space between them, and Eddie’s reminded of the way they flowed around each other that night on the dance floor even as they dance around each other now, scrubbing, rinsing, drying, and putting away the dishes. 

His body yearns for that closeness, for the easy syncing of their movements as they lost themselves, literally, to the music. Eddie doesn’t know when his hips began swaying a little, but he’s pleasantly surprised to find Buck moving in time with him to a song only their hips seem to hear. 

Their eyes find each other as if pulled by some magnetic force. Buck waggles his eyebrows, and Eddie laughs as he grabs Buck’s soapy hand and twirls him around Chris before settling him back at the sink. Chris squeals as water drips on his hair, and Eddie’s never been happier volunteering to scrub a mountain of dishes. 

Eddie doesn’t know how long it takes them, but three pairs of hands make light work, and before he’s ready for the evening to end, all the dishes have been put away and the sinks drained and cleaned. Buck checks each station one last time, making sure all the electric beaters are unplugged and stowed away and all the counters have been wiped down. Eddie empties the dust pan into the garbage can and returns the broom to the broom closet before joining Chris at the door.

It’s getting late, and Eddie really needs to take Chris home, but he can’t seem to make himself walk away. This was the last class for the year, and even though they’ll see each other Sunday at the station, it wouldn’t be the same. He could be out on a call and miss dinner all together, and even if not, Athena may be there, and Eddie doesn’t know how to face her yet, knowing that she knows what he did. 

Buck ushers them out of the classroom and pulls the door shut. Judging by how slowly he's locking up, Eddie dares to think maybe Buck doesn’t want to say goodbye yet, either. Their eyes meet when Buck finally turns the key in the lock, and something passes between them. Longing? Desire? Something Eddie can’t quite put into words?

"Well," Buck starts, stuffing his keys back into his pocket, "thanks for helping out." 

"You're welcome, Buck," Chris replies. 

Buck smiles and leans down to give Chris a tight hug. "See you in the new year." Buck straightens and gives Eddie’s a quirky grin. “Maybe your dad can teach me some more of his smooth dance moves next time.” 

The dejected look on Chris' face reflects how Eddie feels about waiting that long to see Buck again. They walk down the hall together in silence, and Eddie shivers when they step out into the chill of the evening. Buck gives Eddie one last lingering look as he unlocks his car, and his lips move as if he wants to say something but changes his mind at the last second. 

Hope flares in Eddie’s chest, and along with it, a little spark of courage. “Hey, Buck,” he blurts before logic catches on and shuts him up. 


	6. Chapter 6

Buck fixes his hair in the rear view mirror and takes a deep breath, holding it in his lungs for a beat before letting it out slowly. He checks the address once more, matching the number in the text to the number on the side of the quaint yellow house. It’s the right place, and Buck’s early. 

He thumbs through his phone and pulls up Chrome then looks out the window until something catches his eye. Christmas lights. They’re up and blinking brightly everywhere. Buck takes a deep breath and Googles random facts on Christmas lights, and spends the next ten minutes reading. 

Looking up random things and diving deep into pointless facts has always eased him mind. It helps him focus by keeping him distracted, and he learns something new every time so it’s a win win. Before he had a smartphone and before he lucked out finding Athena, he used to go to the library and read encyclopedias for hours. It was a good escape from the shitty foster homes, and it kept him out of trouble and suppressed his sub urges long enough so he didn’t go out of his mind with need. 

It helps him relax now as he opens the last link on the first page of the search results, and by the time he’s done reading, it’s time to head in. 

Buck grabs the box of ingredients from his trunk and balances it on his hip as he walks up the short stone walkway to the front door. He rings the doorbell and grips the box a little tighter, trying to stop the tremor in his hands. 

A yelp of excitement, the sound of footsteps and shuffling, then the front door swings open. 

“Buck!” Christopher beams up at him with that radiant smile that Buck has come to love. 

“Hey bud,” Buck says and squats to give Christopher a hug, his face splitting in a smile despite his nerves. It’s hard not to smile back when Christopher’s got his high beams on. “Ready for some serious cooking?”

“Yeah,” Christopher nods then turns and rushes back into the house. 

Buck straightens, his gaze following the lines of grey sweatpants and army t-shirt and lands on Eddie’s warm hazel eyes. “Uh, hey,” he says, and he’s glad his voice doesn't betray how nervous he is. 

“Hey,” Eddie replies and takes a step back from the door, gesturing with a sweep of his arm. “I’m glad you made it.”

Buck walks into the foyer and waits until Eddie shuts the door behind him before saying, “Of course. Christopher was so excited when you suggested private lessons, how could I not?” It has nothing to do with the fact that Buck can see Eddie in the process. Nope. Nothing to do with that at all. 

Eddie’s shoulders tense, and Buck notices the tightness in the corners of Eddie’s eyes. “He’s been vibrating all day. Let’s get started before he combusts.” He turns and leads Buck down a short hall. His voice is light, but Buck can’t shake the feeling that something’s bothering him. 

Buck doesn’t have time to dwell on that as they walk into the kitchen to a very excited and very smiley Christopher, his crutches stowed neatly against the wall as he sits on a stool, waiting for them. 

“What are we making today?” he asks and rubs his little hands together. 

Buck places the box on the kitchen counter and starts to pull out ingredients. “Can you guess?” He places a bundle of carrots, celery, two potatoes, and an onion on the counter. 

“Umm.” Christopher’s eyes follow Buck’s hand as he reaches into the box and pulls out a head of garlic, then a small bag of flour and a stick of butter. “I don’t know. What are we making?” 

Buck picks up the chilled rotisserie chicken from the box and places it next to the vegetables. “I hope you like chicken and dumplings.”

“Chicken and dumplings?” Christopher cocks his head to the side, his brows furrowed in confusion. 

Buck turns to Eddie and clutches at his chest in mock indignation and shock. “Well I’ll never. You’re telling me you’ve never had chicken and dumplings?” 

The prettiest shade of pink spread across Eddie’s cheeks and down his neck, and Buck swallows, some of his forgotten nerves creeping back. Christ, how a man can blush so prettily is beyond him. 

“My cooking skills end at scrambled eggs, and I burn that half the time,” Eddie says sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. 

Buck blinks, his shock real this time. “Seriously? What do you two eat?”

“Pizza and frozen dinners mostly.” Eddie shrugs. “When my _abuela_ comes to visit she makes lots of freezer meals for us so poor Chris doesn’t starve.” His adam’s apple bobs and his tongue darts out to run over his lips. 

“You’re lucky,” Buck says, putting as much sincerity as he can into those two little words. Buck’s grandparents on his dad’s side passed away before he was born, and his grandparents on his mom’s side were in that same fatal car accident that took his parents. 

Buck tries to shake the sudden wave of melancholy, but his face must have given him away because Eddie’s staring at him with so much intensity it freaks Buck out. He clears his throat and stares at the ingredients on the counter, kicking himself for picking this recipe when he could have gone with literally anything else. His Nana used to make chicken and dumplings when they visited for Christmas every year. He’s figured it out mostly and his version is pretty good, but it’s still missing something. 

A gentle hand lands on his shoulder, and Buck tries his best not to jump. “You all right?” Eddie asks with concern in his deep voice.

“Yeah, sorry,” Buck says. He looks at Eddie and forces his lips into a smile. “Anyway, let’s get started. If you’ve never had chicken and dumplings then you’re in for a treat.” He winks at Christopher, and seeing the boy smile chases away the tightness in his chest. 

The kitchen counter is taller than the benches at the community centre, so Buck helps Christopher balance on a wide stool while they work. Eddie watches from the sidelines, occasionally offering a helping hand with opening the fridge or turning on the tap. Christopher is a quick study, and before long, he’s handling a knife and chopping vegetables like a champ despite Eddie’s obvious discomfort. 

Buck loves teaching kids how to cook. Loves watching them discover their own potentials when their parents are too afraid to let them into the kitchen. His own mother never let him set foot here, afraid he’d burn his hands or chop off a finger, so it wasn’t until he started living with Bobby that he truly learned the joys of cooking. 

Buck pulls out a second knife and starts chopping onions while Christopher shreds the rotisserie chicken. They work in comfortable silence, with Buck giving Christopher pointers when the boy asks questions. Christmas music drifts from the living room, a soft jazz version of classic songs that’s more soothing than festive. 

Which Buck desperately needs as Eddie eyes follow him around the kitchen and watch his every move. It’s not unpleasant even if it’s slightly unnerving, and Buck tries his best not to lock eyes with Eddie whenever he looks up. 

They haven’t talked since the last class nearly a week ago. Even if they desperately need to. Despite what happened, and despite Eddie’s Houdini act as soon as shit hit the fan, Buck can’t stop thinking about him and about that night. Can’t stop thinking about the feeling of truly slipping into sub space for the first time. 

He was so light, like his head was above the clouds, yet so grounded wherever Eddie touched him. It was security and arousal and a billion other feelings that all just clicked, and Buck was at peace in his own skin. Is that the sort of euphoria they talk about in magazines and blog posts? Is that what being with a non-abusive dom is supposed to feel like? 

Or was it just Eddie?

Buck sucks in a sharp breath and swallows. Eddie’s arms felt so good, so  _ right, _ wrapped around him. His body was solid, his grip firm and steady, and the way he led Buck around that dance floor was mind blowing. It was so easy to follow, so easy to respond to Eddie’s every silent command like his body was made to obey. He’s had doms in the past, some kind and gentle, others not so much, but never has it felt as effortless as it did with Eddie. 

And they weren’t even fucking trying.

Coolness coils in the pit of Buck’s stomach and he shakes his head, returning his focus to the task at hand. 

“Okay, remember when we did the pasta sauce and you had to sauté the onions first? You do the same thing here,” Buck instructs as he turns on the stove and places the dutch oven that he packed from home over the heating coil. He debated about packing it at first, and now that he’s had a gander through Eddie’s kitchen, he’s glad he did. Maybe Buck will get Eddie a set of cookware for Christmas. 

“Mhmm.” Christopher drizzles olive oil into the pot before dropping in two pats of butter. Buck helps him scrape the onions into the sizzling pan and watches as Christopher stirs with a wooden spoon. 

Oil splatters, and Eddie makes a move as if he wants to intervene. Buck waves him off, turns the heat down, and checks in with Christopher. 

“Good, bud?” 

“Yeah. It smells so good,” Christopher says as he continues to stir. 

Buck sniffs and sighs, allowing the sweet aroma of caramelizing onions fill his senses. “It gets better.” 

Eddie watches on with that same tightness in his shoulders as Buck helps Christopher sauté the rest of the vegetables and add chicken and stock into the dutch oven. Christopher measures and mixes the ingredients for the dumplings, and waves Buck off when Buck tries to help him drop spoonfuls of batter into the stew. 

He doesn’t fight when Buck offers to move the heavy pot into the oven, then settles on his stool and stares through the window on the oven door while Buck sets the timer for fifteen minutes. 

Buck busies himself with clean up, and a warm body materializes beside him at the sink. 

“Hey,” Eddie murmurs. 

“Hi,” Buck replies. 

Eddie glances over his shoulder at Christopher and some tension seem to bleed away. He fills the sink with warm, soapy water and collects all the dirty bowls and spoons into the sink. Eddie washes, Buck rinses and dries, and they work in silence while avoiding looking at each other as if both are afraid of what eye contact can bring. 

Buck is stiff as he watches Eddie’s arm muscles shift when he scrubs a particularly stuck on spot, scarcely breathing when their fingers brush as Eddie passes him a slippery measuring cup or whisk. It’s torturous to be so close to Eddie and feel like they’re galaxies away, and Buck wonders if the extra cash from these private lessons is worth it. 

They really need to talk about what happened at the club, and the words are on the tip of Buck’s tongue, but he’s afraid to ask. Afraid of how Eddie would react. Eddie seems like a nice guy, but he’s still a Dominant, and doms don’t like it when subs question them. Especially a mouthy, demanding sub like Buck. The fact Athena doesn’t take a belt to him half the time is a miracle. 

But waiting for Eddie to broach the subject,  _ if _ he even will, is killing Buck. Those marching ants return, itching just beneath Buck’s skin, and he resists the urge to scratch like a heroin addict. 

Eddie reaches across the sink for the dirty wooden spoon, and Buck’s breath catches as his shoulder bumps Buck’s chest. Eddie freezes, peeks over his shoulder, and their eyes finally meet. 

A spark zaps down Buck’s spine, and the inside of his mouth turns to sand as he finds himself reflected in the honey brown of Eddie’s eyes. Those same eyes that held him captive all those nights ago on the dance floor. 

Eddie’s nostrils flare, just slightly, but enough it catches Buck’s attention. Their lips part in sync, and Buck finds it a little harder to breathe when Eddie’s plump lips call to him like a Siren’s song. He inches forward a tentative half an inch, giving Eddie ample time to pull away. 

He doesn’t, and they swallow like mirror images. 

Buck stares at Eddie’s lips. How would they feel? Taste? Eddie’s lips are closer, and Buck’s not sure who made the move this time. Only that Eddie’s breath tickles and man does Buck want to fucking kiss him. 

They inch forward. 

Just a little more. 

Half an inch. 

And— 

The timer beeps.

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

_ Beep beep beep.  _

Buck startles and jumps back as if slapped, blinking like he’s waking from a trance. His face is bright red, and Eddie’s sure his cheeks match Buck’s, his skin burning. Chris pushes to his feet and waves the oven mitts at Buck, an adorable bounce in his step as he shuffles clear of the oven door. 

What the fuck was he thinking? Eddie rakes shaky fingers through his hair and tries to still the mad thumping of his heart. His lips tingle, and the distinctive tang of disappointment sours his tongue as he glances at Buck. At Buck’s lips.  _ Fuck. _

The guilt that seems to live permanently in Eddie’s gut flares up as he tries not to stare at Buck. It’s been so long since his stomach fluttered so much because of one person. Been so long since his waking hours are spent worrying about anything other than how not to fuck up being a single dad. And now there’s Buck, and Eddie’s not sure how to handle this insistent need to take care of him. 

Not that he’s even remotely qualified to. 

He was shocked when Buck agreed to private cooking lessons, though he’s sure none of that is because of how much he likes Eddie, and everything to do with how much Buck seems to enjoy Chris’ company. The two get along so well, it’s as if Buck’s always been in Chris’ life. Sometimes, Eddie wonders if Chris would have been better off with Buck as his real dad. 

The thought sends another cold jolt of guilt down his spine. How shitty of a parent is he that he fantasizes about passing off responsibility of his own kid to someone he hardly knows? Probably as shitty of a parent as one who ran when his son was born with CP.

Eddie shakes his head and digs his nails into his palms, holding his itching fists by his side instead of punching a wall. Chris doesn’t need to see that. No one does. 

“Buck, Buck it’s ready!” 

“Are you excited?” Buck asks, a faint tremor in his voice. His expression is neutral, but there’s still a tint of pink left in his cheeks. 

He slips on the mitts and opens the oven door, his eyes decidedly downcast and avoiding Eddie. Carefully, he pulls the dutch oven out and gently places it on the stove top. The smell of chicken stew and buttery dumplings permeates the air. It’s a mouth-watering aroma that’s both comforting and hunger inducing, and Eddie’s stomach growls as Buck lifts the lid. 

“Daddy’s hungry.” Chris giggles, and that bright bubbly sound breaks Eddie’s downward spiral. 

Buck smirks and cocks a brow at Eddie. “Sure sounds like it.”

“He was really excited for you to come today,” Christopher says, and Eddie’s face goes back to feeling radioactive. “I don’t think I’ve seen him this excited since we moved.” 

Buck’s eyes snap up and widen in shock, and Eddie’s chest squeezes. Moving to LA wasn’t easy. New city, new faces, new job, hell, even new grocery stores where Eddie can’t find anything without running around like a headless chicken. He thought he hid his frustrations from Chris well, but he’s obviously failed at that, too. 

He sighs and tries for a nonchalant shrug. Judging by the look on Buck’s face, it didn’t work. “It’s just been hard moving to a new city.”

Buck’s expression softens, and it’s that softness in those brilliant blue eyes that gets Eddie every time. “Yeah, I know that feeling,” he says, and there’s a heaviness in his voice that breaks Eddie’s heart. 

Of course he does. Being bounced around in the foster system has got to be way worse than simply moving. And Eddie’s an adult who made a conscious choice while Buck was just a kid tossed about with no real say over his own life. Eddie glances at Chris, and he can’t imagine this sweet child being yanked from house to house, never having that security only a loving home can bring. 

A swell of sadness threatens to drown him and he’s overcome with a need to hold Buck. To feel the man’s solid frame in his arms and his heart beating beneath Eddie’s palm. But Buck’s not his to hold, and he’s obviously found a place in this world where he’s loved and cared for. Which is way more than what Eddie can give him. 

“Daddy, can we eat?” Chris’ voice cuts through his sobering thoughts. “I’m hungry.”

Eddie clears his throat and says, “Yeah,  _ mijo _ . Wanna set the table?” 

Chris nods and opens the cutlery drawer while Eddie pulls three bowls from the cupboard next to the sink.

“Oh, you guys eat, I um”—Buck clasps his hands together and shifts his weight from one foot to the other—“should probably get going.”

“What?” Eddie frowns. “You cooked, you get to at least eat some.”

“I helped Christopher cook, you already paid for the ingredients so…” Buck’s eyes dart between Eddie and some invisible spot on the floor, his smile strained. He shrinks as if he’s afraid of taking up space, his back hunched and his head hung low as he shuffles backwards in the direction of the front door. 

He looks like someone who still doesn’t think he’s wanted. 

Eddie leaves the bowls on the counter and swallows the distance between them in hurried strides. He touches Buck’s elbow, and when Buck doesn’t flinch, he wraps his hands around Buck’s arms and holds him in place. 

“Please, stay, there’s enough for all of us,” he murmurs and tries to strip any trace of command from his voice. Knowing how easy it is to drag Buck under, Eddie doesn’t want a repeat of what happened last time, and he definitely doesn’t want to keep Buck here unless Buck wants to stay.

Doubt-filled blue eyes stare at Eddie, and despite the couple inches Buck has on him, he still makes Eddie’s feel like a giant. He opens his mouth, and Eddie’s heart sinks because he knows that look in Buck’s eyes, but Chris beats him to it. 

“Please stay, Buck?” He walks over slowly without his crutches, using the counter to balance. “Daddy promised me cookies after dinner, you can have one of mine.” 

The beat of silence that envelops them is choked, and Eddie holds his breath as he watches Buck’s eyes go from uncertain to something soft. His lips twitch, then the corners curls up and his expression softens. 

“Is it chocolate chip?” he asks.

Chris turns to Eddie and cocks his head to the side. “Can it be chocolate chip, daddy?”

Eddie takes a deep breath, and as he exhales, a lightness unlike anything he’s ever experienced fills his chest. “Yeah, we have chocolate chip.” His eyes meet Bucks, and the warmth swimming in those brilliant blues steals Eddie’s breath. 

“All right then,” Buck announces, “I guess I’ll have to stay for chocolate chip cookies.” 

“Yay!” Chris claps, and Eddie muses just how lucky he is to have Chris in his life. 

Buck ladles thick chicken stew and dumplings into each bowl while Eddie carries them to the dinner table. Chris places a spoon at each place setting, and the three of them settle around the table. 

Eddie picks up his spoon, his stomach twisting with hunger while his mouth waters, but his attention’s focused on the man sitting across from him. On the way he grips the stem of his spoon, on the way his lips pucker as he blows on the hot stew. On the way his eyes roll into the back of his head as he takes a bite. 

He looks so happy it’s hard not to be infected by it. 

Chris slurps some soup, then bites into a piping hot dumpling. He spits it into the bowl, then fans his mouth and grabs for his water cup. Buck’s spoon clatters into his bowl, and he helps Chris cut up his dumplings before Eddie’s put down his spoon. 

Something sparks in Eddie’s chest. A fondness he hasn’t felt for anyone since his wife died, and he sucks in a sharp breath before busying himself with a dumpling. The thick stew is delicious. It’s rich and packed with carrots, potatoes, peas, and chicken, and the dumplings are airy and buttery. But Eddie hardly tastes it. 

It’s impossible to focus when Buck’s plump lips wrap around his spoon with every bite. Impossible to focus when he laughs whenever Chris says something funny. Their eyes meet periodically across the table, and every time they do, something unlike electricity skitters across Eddie’s skin. 

Chris and Buck chatter on and on about this and that. First it was superheroes, then they move to surfing, much to Eddie’s discomfort at the idea of Chris on a surfboard. Eventually the get into a heated discussion about some YouTube channel to do with unboxing toys. The back and forth of their banter, the sound of their excited voices and laughter, the smell of a delicious home cooked meal, it all settle around Eddie like a warm blanket. For the first time since they moved to LA, Eddie feels like he belongs in this little yellow house in this formidable city that never turns off. 

Buck turns to Eddie when Chris returns his attention to his bowl, his tongue sticking out as he tries to cut a chunk of carrot in half. 

“So,” he starts then licks his lips. 

“So.” Eddie swallows as he tracks the tip of Buck’s tongue. 

“So”—Buck clears his throat—“did you know Eddison was the first guy to put up Christmas lights?”

Eddie blinks, caught off guard by this random tidbit. “Uh, I did not.”

Buck grins and licks his lips again before taking a bite of stew. “Yeah. Fucker wanted to show off his light bulbs. You know how expensive it was to light up a house back in the day?”

“No?” 

“Well, very expensive,” he says matter-of-factly. “Way too expensive to be doing it to show off a stupid light bulb.”

“Huh.” Eddie brings another bite to his lips. “How much are we talking here?”

“Apparently it’s three hundred dollars just to light a Christmas tree.”

“Oh shi—.” 

“In todays terms, that’s over two k.” 

“Jesus—” Eddie clamps his hand over his mouth just as Chris kicks him in the shin. “Sorry kiddo.”

“Do it again and I’m telling  _ abuela _ .” Chris waves his spoon sternly before going back to his dinner. 

Buck’s eyes are wide as saucers, and his lips quiver as if he’s trying his hardest not to fucking smile. That fucker. 

Eddie clears his throat and finishes the last of his chicken and dumplings before he says, “That’s a lot of money for a fire hazard.” 

Buck rolls his eyes. “Do you really have to call it that?”

“Sorry, it’s the firefighter in me.” Eddie points his spoon at Buck and winks

Buck’s eyes turn stormy and his cheeks colour. He picks up his bowl and brings it to his lips, then throws his head back to get the last of the gravy, and Eddie tries not to stare at the length of his throat and the bob of his adam’s apple. 

After dinner and a very exciting game of who gets the last cookie, the three of them settle in front of the TV for a quick episode of cartoons before Eddie put Chris to bed. 

When he emerges from Chris’ bedroom, he finds Buck wiping down the dinner table. Eddie turns off the TV and turns on the radio, then joins Buck in the kitchen. They work around each other, putting away the left overs and loading the dishwasher, dancing around the small kitchen like moths around a flame. 

A familiar song stops them in their tracks. Buck glances at Eddie and swallows, and Eddie’s sure his own expression must mirror Buck’s deer-in-headlights impression as the song from the club teases memories of that night that are never far from Eddie’s mind. He takes a deep breath, hoping and failing to calm the rapid beating of his heart, and every molecule in his body wants to press up against Buck. Wants to relive that night where their bodies moved in perfect unison, where they soared together. 

And crashed together.

He shudders as the remembrance of the come-down from that night hits him like a physical blow, as if he’s in free fall with no one to catch him and no where to land. The spectre of that continuous migraine flares at the base of his skull, and Eddie can’t breathe. 

The room spins as if he’s drunk, and Eddie reaches for the nearest thing to grab onto, sinking his nails into whatever it is he’s hanging onto like a lifeline. A part of him watches from afar, as if he’s looking down at himself, and shakes his head. The rest of him struggles for sips of air as he tries not to fall over. 

Pathetic. Fucking pathetic.

Eddie shuts his eyes and tries to remember the breathing exercises his therapist taught him all those years ago, after he left the army and came back to face a much harsher reality than getting shot at. Slow breath in. Hold. Count to ten. Release. 

Breathe in. 

Hold.

Count to ten.

Release. 

Breathe in.

Hold.

Gentle hands land on his shoulders and squeezes.

Eddie’s eyes fly open, and Buck stares back at him with concern in his eyes. His face is pinched, his brows furrowed, and Eddie can’t look away from him even if he tried. Buck’s hands stroke down Eddie’s arms, then he grips Eddie’s wrists and pulls his hands around his torso before wrapping his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. 

The embrace is loose and a little rigid, but Eddie’s fingers curl into Buck’s shirt automatically as if it’s the only natural thing to do. Buck cradles the back of Eddie’s head, fingers carding through Eddie’s hair, then slowly, oh so slowly, he begins to sway. 

Eddie follows like a lost puppy, his chest rising and falling in time with Buck’s, and before long, they’re breathing in sync as the music loosens the tightness around Eddie’s chest. Buck takes them from one end of the kitchen to the other then back, their feet shuffling to the beat of the song. The footwork is uncomplicated. Like Buck. And Eddie swallows back the lump lodged in his throat. 

He doesn’t deserve this tenderness and care. He’s the Dominant, yet it feels like it’s Buck taking care of him every step of the way. Buck, who’s the one so quick to forgive. Buck, who’s murmuring sweet reassurances into Eddie’s ear as if he’s calming a spooked child. 

Buck deserves a great dom who can anticipate his needs. Someone who’s experienced and kind and without baggage. Someone who’s not Eddie. 

He needs to pull back and put some distance between them. Needs to get a grip and stop dragging Buck into his bullshit. But he can’t seem to let go of Buck’s shirt, can’t seem to force himself away from the pillar of strength that Buck’s body provides. Instead, he follows while Buck leads, and it’s not until the last note of the song fades that Eddie feels his looming headache fading away.

His body is moulded around Buck’s like putty, and with the red haze of panic receding and dissipating, Eddie’s heart rate spikes for totally different reasons. He’s acutely aware of Buck’s fingers still in his hair, his lips pressing against Eddie’s temple. Aware of the way Buck’s hips lead Eddie’s in sensual circles as they continue to dance to a silent beat, and the scorching heat radiating from Buck’s body in waves. 

Eddie knows he doesn’t deserve someone like Buck, but it’s been so long since he had someone to lean on. Been so long since the weight on his shoulders lifted even for a little while that the lack of pressure leaves him dizzy and breathless. 

Buck’s feet stop somewhere in the middle of the kitchen, and he pulls back to study Eddie’s face. “Hey,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. 

Eddie clears his throat and takes a shuddering breath, then tries for a smile. “Hey.”

Something cacophonously upbeat blasts from the living room, and a female announcer’s shrill voice shatters the fragile tranquility around them. “Get D/S Weekly for all the latest fashion trends and new dom/sub power dynamics uncovered by leading experts,” the high pitched, enthusiastic voice chirps. Obnoxious music accompanies her as she continues her sales pitch for the popular magazine, but Eddie’s not paying attention to the commercial.

Colour drains from Buck’s face, and his soft eyes pop wide with dread as he stumbles back from Eddie. “Oh shit. Oh god. I’m so sorry. I was so out of line—”

Eddie frowns, reeling from the emotional whiplash as he blinks.  _ What the— _

“I—you’re a dom—fuck. I’m—Christ—” Buck spins around and crashes into the dinner table. He clutches at his hip and hisses in pain, then looks up again last Eddie. His face is twisted in regret and fear, and his chest heaves as if he’s been sprinting. 

“Buck?” Eddie croaks. “Please—”

“No,” Buck shouts, then clasps both hands over this mouth. 

They stare at each other over the dinner table, Eddie confused as all hell while Buck looks like he’s about to be sick. Silence hangs between them, loaded and suffocating. Buck’s hands drop to his sides, and his expression is so pained it breaks Eddie’s heart. 

_ What the fuck is happening? _

Eddie raises a hand, but Buck shakes his head. Without a word, he turns and disappears down the hall, leaving Eddie rooted in the spot until the front door slams. 


	8. Chapter 8

The Christmas party is going exactly as planned—exactly as  _ he _ planned it—while he hides in the broom closet. Muffled voices mingle with soft but festive holiday music, and occasionally a peel of laughter drifts through the crack beneath the closet door. 

It’s not that Buck particularly enjoys sitting in cramped dark places that smell like cleaning chemicals and mildew, but he’d rather keep dust bunnies company right now than go out there and face Eddie. When Buck ran out of Eddie’s house last week, it was purely instinctive. He’d overstepped, crossed a line no good sub ever should. When he showed up for their second private cooking class to Carla opening the front door, it confirmed what Buck already knew. 

That he royally screwed everything up. Just like  _ he _ said Buck would. 

_ No self-respecting Dominant will want a mouthy, defiant sub like you, Evan Buckley, so smarten up or I’m gonna have to beat some obedience into you.  _

Buck inhales sharply and fists his hands in his lap, willing those unsavoury memories to fuck right off. Just because he’s sitting in a closet doesn’t mean he’s not enjoying Christmas. He’s just enjoying it in the dark. With mops and brooms. And feeling sorry for himself. 

Sure, he and Eddie may have started on some shaky grounds, but despite how things went down at the club and how he was stuck in sub drop for what felt like a lifetime, Buck thought he and Eddie were finally,  _ finally _ , getting somewhere. All the signs were there, practically lit up in flashing neon, and all Buck had to do was be  _ good and know his place _ . 

Somewhere below, the fire station garage doors open, and Buck’s breath catches. Eddie and the rest of his team is back from a call. Which means Eddie will be coming upstairs soon. Buck sighs and tries not to let disappointment drown him. What he’d give to see Eddie’s face when he realizes Christopher and Carla are here instead of at home, along with all the families of the one-eighteen who are on shift on Christmas, so they can spend the evening together. 

Buck assembled and cooked all the hors d'oeuvres, from crab-stuffed mushroom caps to prosciutto-wrapped dried figs to pigs in a blanket. Buck can say he slaved away for the sake of the party, but the truth is making enough finger food to feed a small army was the only thing keeping him from spiralling. 

Footsteps echo from the stairs. Shocked gasps and exclamations are drowned out by a collectively shouted “surprise,” and there’s so much laughter Buck can’t help but smile despite his sour mood. He loves the one-eighteen, and knowing that he can bring a little joy into their lives by bringing their families to them on Christmas day when they’re stuck working is enough to make Buck feel like he’s making a small difference in the world. 

It has to be enough. 

The hum of excited voices drop back to conversation level, which means all Buck hears are murmurs and the drone of too many voices blending together. Somewhere close by, someone who sounds a lot like Chim moans. 

“God, this has got to be the best shrimp cocktail I’ve ever had.”

“It’s Buck’s secret recipe,” someone who Buck’s sure is Maddie replies. “He wouldn’t even tell me what’s in it, that little shit.”

Buck preens and fumes at the same time. Damn skippy, he’s not giving away his secret shrimp cocktail sauce. That’s why it’s a  _ secret _ . 

“Speaking of Buck,” the voice that must be Chim says, “where is he?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t seen him since we finished setting up.”

“Sometimes that kid worries me,” Chim says.

Maddie sighs. “You’re telling me. I think there’s something going on with that new guy.”

Buck chokes on air and bites his arm to keep from making any noise. Maddie is too damn observant for her own good. 

“Eddie? Seriously?”

“I dunno, it’s just a feeling.” Buck can practically hear the shrug in her voice. 

“Now you’ve got me curious…” The voices move away from the closet, and Buck lets out a strangled little sigh. 

Maybe it’s good that he messed it all up. Buck can’t imagine what it would be like for Eddie if the team finds out he and Buck were involved. Sunday dinners would be brutal, and Buck knows Bobby takes being his unofficial dad very seriously. Then there’d be the bets. Christ.

Buck pulls out his phone and opens a browser, his thumb hovering over the search bar while he thinks about what random trivia to look up. He’s got a few hours to kill before the party winds down and shift change happens. Then he can pop out and clean up the mess before the cleaning lady comes in the morning. After all, Buck threw the party, he should be the one to clean it up. 

He types in the origins of hors d'oeuvres. It doesn’t take long for him to read through everything he can find on the 17 th century French practice. Next, he looks up the origins of Christmas, then the origins of New Year’s Eve celebrations. He’s not sure how long he’s been sitting there, but the blaring alarm of a call snaps him out of his readings. 

Buck blinks and looks about as if there’s more than just bleach and water buckets around him, and feels the floor shake as multiple pairs of feet run down the stairs. Something sours the pit of his stomach, and Buck huffs a frustrated sigh as he thumbs “origins of firefighting” into Google. He opens the Wikipedia link and scans the page. Most of the stuff he already knows, like how firefighting originated in Rome. He’s not sure why he’s even reading this stuff. It’s certainly not improving his mood. 

As he gets to the end of the page, an ad catches his eye, and his thumb hovers over the back button. 

“Want to become a firefighter?” it reads in block letters, and under the text are four buff smiling firefighters standing shoulder to shoulder, holding axes and covered in soot. A phone number and a link in blue text are listed under their feet. 

Buck swallows and takes a sharp breath. Being a firefighter has been his dream since he was a kid, before his orientation presented, and even after he was a confirmed Submissive, Buck always held this small spark of hope that one day, he can still become a firefighter. Now that he’s an adult, he knows better than to place hope in silly childhood dreams, but something inside him still yearns. 

He clicks the link before he can chicken out, and it takes him to [ joinlafd.org](http://joinlafd.org) . Even looking at the information feels wrong, but Buck ignores the little voice that’s been nagging him all night and clicks on the hiring process link. 

Candidates need to be eighteen, check. Completed high school, check. Be a U.S. citizen, check. His phone vibrates and Athena’s name flashes across the screen. Buck nearly drops the damn thing. He ignores the call and turns off the screen with a curse. 

His hands shake, and he drops the phone next to him on the cramped floor as he squeezes his hands between his thighs. What’s he even doing? There’s no place in the LAFD for a sub. There are too many risks involved. It’s hard enough being around some of the most alpha doms in town when he comes to the station to cook Sunday dinners. Working with them would turn Buck’s knees to jelly and send his poor little sub sensibilities into overdrive. 

Just because it’s legal now for Submissives to hold jobs in careers that used to be Dominants only doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.

Buck picks up his phone and turns on the screen. The closet door swings open, startling him, and his phone clatters to the floor once more. He squints up into the halo of light and—

“Buck?” Eddie’s voice is unmistakable and filled with questions. He takes a step back and light spills around him to illuminate the confusion in his eyes. “What the fuck are you doing in the broom closet?”

Buck swallows. His mind races as he tries and fails to find a good answer, so he settles on deflection. “Why are you not out on that call?” 

Eddie’s frown deepens as he grabs Buck by the arm and yanks him off the floor and out of the narrow closet. “Wait, you’ve been here since that call came in?” 

Buck rubs his elbow and chews on his lip. His face burns, hell, his whole body burns as he tries to find a good excuse for why he was in the closet. For a guy who’s never been coy or secretive about his sexuality, the irony of him stumbling out of the closet is not lost on him. “Um, maybe? Actually, maybe even before that?”

“Why—what the hell, man?`” 

“How did you know I was in there?” 

“I didn’t. One of the kids tripped over Chris’ crutches and tipped over the punch bowl,” Eddie says, resignation in his voice. “I came here for the mop.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Buck rubs the back of his neck. If there’s even an iota of a chance that Christmas miracles are real, he needs one now where the floor opens up and swallows him whole. 

“You know, everyone thought you set up the party then left,” Eddie says as he pushes past Buck and grabs the mop. “Athena and Bobby were really worried.” He bends down and grabs the bucket, then straightens and gives Buck a hard look. “We all were.”

Buck worries at his bottom lip and shrinks under Eddie’s accusatory gaze. Standing under the bright fluorescent light in the hallway, Buck feels all sorts of stupid. Why did he hide in the closet? He should have left and come back later to clean up. He didn’t think anyone would check the broom closet, and that’s his problem right there. He didn’t think. 

Just like he wasn’t thinking when he clicked on the ad for joining the LAFD and when he decided to lead a dom. 

Eddie stares at him for a long moment, then brushes a thumb across the corner of Buck’s mouth. Buck freezes, his breath caught in his throat as the soft pad of that thumb coaxes Buck’s bottom lip from his teeth. The metallic tang of blood coats his tongue, and it’s only then that Buck notices how painfully his lip is throbbing. 

Eddie’s hand falls from Buck’s lip, and Buck wants to protest at the loss. “Can you help me with this?” he asks and waves the mop handle in front of Buck. 

“Uh”—Buck clears his throat—“y-yeah. Of course.” 

He follows Eddie back to the party, his eyes glued to Eddie’s shoes. A few people call out in greeting, and Buck waves with a smile plastered on his face. Buck fills the bucket with clean water, and Eddie makes short work of the pool of red punch on the kitchen floor. They work in silence, and Buck’s sure his skin is covered in little burnt holes where Eddie’s eyes drill into him every few seconds. 

Eddie rinses the mop. Buck dumps the dirty water in the bathroom, and when he steps out, Eddie’s waiting for him by the door, thick arms crossed over solid chest. He grabs the bucket from Buck and dumps it in the closet unceremoniously, and Buck wonders how it would feel to have Eddie manhandle him like he just did that bucket. 

_ Christ, this is not the fucking time, Buckley.  _

As if on cue, Eddie grabs Buck’s hand and drags him down the hall, into the emergency stairwell, down the flight of stairs, and out through the back door into the courtyard behind the station. Eddie’s shoulders are tense, his strides aggressive as he yanks Buck along, cutting across the large space until they’re on the other side of the compound. 

A decommissioned fire truck is their destination, and Eddie drops Buck’s hand as soon as they’re behind it, shielded from prying eyes. He paces, stopping periodically and looking at Buck as if he wants to say something, but changes his mind last minute and goes back to pacing until Buck’s mad with nerves and impatience. 

He shouldn’t, being assertive is what got him into trouble in the first place, but Buck takes a step forward and plants himself in front of Eddie, his hands on his hips, and physically stops Eddie in his tracks. “What’s going on, man?”

Eddie blinks up at him, his cheeks flushed, his lips parted and glistening in the dim evening light. They stare at each other, for how long Buck’s not sure, but eventually Eddie looks away and scrubs a hand down his face and says, “Sometimes I really don’t get you.”

The words take Buck by surprise and put him on the defensive. “Well, you don’t really know me.” 

Another beat of silence. 

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, “you’re right. I don’t know you. And that’s on me.”

“Huh?” Buck tries to make sense of Eddie’s words, their implications, but he comes up short. “What do you mean?”

“I—” Eddie looks away and takes a deep breath before continuing, “I shouldn’t have left you with Athena that night.”

So it comes full circle. “You could’ve done worse.”

Eddie winces as if slapped and chuckles, the sound dry and humourless. “Yeah, I guess. That’s not exactly reassuring though.” 

Buck huffs a sigh and leans against the cool metal of the fire truck. He glances at the inky sky, at the few bright stars shining through the hazy halo of artificial light that engulfs the whole city, and finds himself at a loss. What’s he supposed to say? That it was okay? Because it wasn’t, and they both know it. 

“You want me to, like, punch you or something?” Buck asks instead. 

Eddie barks out a laugh, the sound sharp as it echoes. “Maybe?” He slumps against the truck beside Buck and sighs. 

“Not gonna happen,” Buck says.

“Didn’t think so.”

They fall silent then, letting the sound of the city fill the gap between them. Being left alone, even if he technically wasn’t alone, after going into sub space really sucked, and Buck was angry. At Eddie, yes, but mostly at himself. He should have known better. Should have kept his wits about him. Eddie wasn’t the only dom he’s ever danced with, and certainly not the first dom Buck’s felt that pull toward. His biology literally demands that of him, but he’d been able to resist before. He had to, after what happened…but with Eddie, it was like his defenses were useless. Like Eddie was smoke that seeped through his armour, and Buck was lost before he even set foot on the dance floor.

The same thing happened at Eddie’s place. That magnetic pull, that twist in his gut whenever he feels Eddie’s eyes on him. That spark at the base of his spine whenever they touched. It’s as if Buck’s been on stand-by and Eddie’s come along and flipped on a switch. 

He’s not sure why Eddie brought him here. Maybe he wants to call off the cooking lessons? Maybe it’s something else? Whatever it is, Buck just wants to get it over with. He’s so tired, and his back aches from sitting cramped in the closet all night. He opens his mouth, an apology on the tip of his tongue when Eddie cuts him off. 

“I’m not sure what happened last week”—he looks up and finds Buck’s eyes—“but whatever I did, I’m sorry.”

_ Huh? _

“I’m not,” Eddie starts, pauses, and drops his eyes to their feet, his shoulders slumped. “I’m not good with…feelings. Even worse when those feelings are for someone I care about.” He looks up again, fear and vulnerability in his haunted eyes. “I run. It’s what I do. What I always did—”

Buck opens his mouth to object, but Eddie holds up his hand. 

“—I did that when Chris was born. I reenlisted instead of coming home like I promised. All because I didn’t know how to handle a baby. What if I broke him? What if he hates me?” He smiles ruefully, his eyes infinitely sad. “It’s all so stupid, I know. But I freaked out, and I left Shannon to pick up the pieces. To care for a little boy all by herself. It’s a miracle she didn’t dump my ass.”

“Eddie—”

“I lost some of Chris’ best years, and I have to live with that for the rest of my life.” He takes a deep breath and leans his head back against the truck. “When you…left, that night, it gave me a little taste of my own medicine, I guess, and boy, it sucks.”

Buck chortles. “Ah, yeah, sorry.”

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m…I know you’re a sub, and I should be looking after you.” Eddie turns slightly, and their eyes meet. “Instead, you’ve been so wonderful. With me. With Chris. Especially with Chris.”

Buck’s chest squeezes, and he wants to tell Eddie that  _ he’s _ the one who overstepped, that  _ he’s _ the one who should have been mindful of their dynamic because is it’s his job to be. But the words feel wrong somehow when Eddie’s looking at him with those sad, soft eyes. 

“Chris is a natural in the kitchen,” Buck says instead. “He’s a smart kid, and he’s lucky to have you.”

“I’m the lucky one,” Eddie huffs, and his voice loses some of that bone-crushing sadness. 

“Yeah, yeah you are.” Buck punches Eddie’s shoulder playfully, and Eddie kicks his boot. “So, how come you weren’t there for our last cooking class?”

Eddie sighs. “Got called into work last minute.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

Buck picks at the hem of his shirt and kicks at the dirt. “And the call tonight?”

“Shift change happened right before,” Eddie answers. 

“I see.” 

“Mhmm.”

The silence between them this time is not as loaded, not as uncomfortable, and Buck relaxes against the side of the truck. “So, you care about me, huh?” Buck glances at Eddie with a smirk.

Something shifts in Eddie, in the set of his shoulders and the way his chest puffs as he sucks in a sharp breath. His cheeks colour, and the pretty flush is made prettier by the kiss of moonlight. “Yeah, maybe a little.” 

“Just a little?”

Eddie rolls his eyes but stops when he stares up. Buck follows his gaze, and right above them, is a bundle of mistletoe with a note tied to the stem. Eddie reaches up and pulls the note free. “Chim was hanging mistletoe everywhere at the party,” he says as he unfolds the piece of paper. 

_ I knew someone would sneak off to the graveyard to do god knows what. Have a reason to at least kiss before you kids get gross. Merry Christmas — C _

“Jesus, Chim.” Buck shakes his head and chuckles, but the sound peters out as his eyes meet Eddie’s. 

They stare at each other, glance up at the mistletoe together then back down like mirror images. Buck’s mouth turns into the Sahara, and Eddie’s Adam’s apple bobs as his eyes land on Buck’s lips. Are they actually going to kiss under the mistletoe like some goddamn cliche? 

Eddie inches forward and pivots until he’s facing Buck. He rests a forearm against the truck beside Buck’s head and leans in so close his breath tickles Buck’s skin. So close he can count each individual eyelash framing Eddie’s liquid brown eyes. So close Buck only needs to tip forward to feel the press of Eddie’s chest and the racing beat of his heart. 

Every cell in his body gravitates toward Eddie, and it takes every ounce of strength he possesses to resist the urge to close the infinitesimal space between them and claim Eddie’s mouth. He’s a sub, he doesn’t lead, shouldn’t lead, so he waits.

Warmth and desire swim in Eddie’s eyes, and when the tip of his tongue darts out to flick across his lips, Buck nearly has an aneurysm.

Buck wants. He’s been wanting since the first day he laid eyes on Eddie. Wants to feel Eddie’s soft hair between his fingers. Wants Eddie’s weight on top of him. Wants to find out what that exquisite mouth tastes like. And in the depth of Eddie’s eyes, Buck finds those same wants reflected. 

“Fuck, Eddie,” Buck husks and curls a hand into the front of Eddie’s uniform, unable to keep his mouth shut despite his best efforts to be patient. “Kiss me.”

Eddie’s breath hitches, and when he finally,  _ finally _ touch his lips to Buck’s, it’s like fireworks. Everywhere. 


	9. Chapter 9

Eddie cannot stop thinking about that kiss. He’s always been a realist, never much of a romantic, but that night, that  _ kiss _ , has left him in a love-sick haze like a teenage girl whose crush just asked her to the prom. Buck was so responsive, so pliant and soft in all the right ways. So eager to give when Eddie’s tongue licked into his mouth. So hungry for more when Eddie finally pulled away for air. 

Before Eddie and Shannon got married, he flipped through a bodice ripper Shannon left at his place, and he’d scrunched up his nose at the purple prose. He knows he’s colouring it a bit, knows that no one  _ actually _ tastes like cookies and pies, but he finally understands that sentiment. 

Buck tasted like sugar cookies and warm apple pie and something that’s distinctively  _ Buck _ . 

And Eddie wants more. Wants it all the damn time. 

The timer beeps, the same blasted timer that robbed him of the first time he and Buck almost kissed, and Eddie scowls at it as he turns it off. He checks the pan of roasted bell peppers, onions, and chicken breasts cut into strips through the window in the oven door, and when everything looks cooked, he slips on mitts and pulls the baking sheet out of the oven. 

Eddie’s not lying when he says he can’t cook worth shit, but this chicken fajitas recipe his  _ abuela _ taught him all those years ago is his one fool-proof go-to when he feels the itch to cook. It’s so easy—slice the vegetables and chicken and toss them with taco seasoning—that even he can’t fuck it up. His  _ abuela _ always serves homemade soft tortillas, but Eddie settles for warming up the store-bought stuff in a steamer. Less chances of burning the house down this way. 

He shuts off the oven, transfers the chicken and vegetables into a covered bowl, then quickly washes the dishes. He walks through his house, picking up any stray toys he missed when he tidied up earlier, and made sure everything looks spick and span before Buck gets here. 

Thoughts of Buck tug at the corners of Eddie’s lips, and he’s not sure when he became this way. This giddiness in his chest every time he thinks about Buck. The flush of his skin whenever something reminds him of Buck. The constant buzz in the back of his skull that reminds him it’s been days since he last saw Buck. 

The last time he felt like this about someone, he asked her to marry him. 

Eddie shakes his head and wills the thrumming vibrations under his skin to stay put. Eddie’s not sure what spooked Buck the first night he came over for cooking lessons, but he’s sure as hell not going to let that happen again. He’s a goddamn dom, and he’d like to think that he’s a decent one at that. Fucking up twice with the same sub is not just embarrassing, it’s dangerous and irresponsible, and Eddie is neither of those things. 

The clock on the microwave blinks six fifty-eight, and when the digital number jumps to six fifty-nine, the doorbell rings. Eddie takes a deep breath, scans his living room once more, than hurries to get the door. 

“Hey,” Buck says as soon as the door swings open. 

Eddie’s breath hitches as he takes Buck in. His hair is slicked back, and as much as Eddie loves the fluffy hair, this sophisticated look does things to Eddie’s insides. Buck’s wearing a snug black polo shirt, the sleeves straining around the bulge of his biceps. The fabric pulls taut across his chest, and the shirt tapers around his slender waist as it’s tucked into the tightest pair of white jeans Eddie’s ever seen. The golden H of his belt buckle gleams under the porch light, and Eddie’s not sure if he wore that to purposely draw Eddie’s eyes to his crotch. 

If he did, it’s working. 

The outfit leaves little to the imagination, and Eddie’s mouth goes bone dry as he takes a step back. “Uh, hey. Please, come in.” 

Buck steps into the house and waits for Eddie to shut the door before kicking off his shoes. He hands Eddie a bottle of bubbly wine with a bow stuck on the neck and grins. “For the count down.”

“Oh, yes, right.” Eddie takes the bottle and tries to calm his stupid heart. It’s beating way too fast, and the last thing he wants is to have a heart attack on New Year’s Eve with Buck here. 

“Where’s Christopher?” Buck asks. 

“With my  _ abuela. _ She came into town the day after Christmas.” 

“Oh,” Buck says, and Eddie’s sure he heard the tiny spark of excitement in his voice. “Just us then.” 

“Yeah.” Eddie places the bottle on the dinner table. “Wouldn’t be much of a date if I had to bring my kid with me.”

Buck’s eyes flash, and his smile is slow and deliberate. “So, this  _ is _ a date then.”

“Wait, was I not clear?” Eddie splutters. Shit, has he been so out of practice he didn’t even ask Buck out on a date properly? “I mean—I thought—you—” Buck’s amused laughter cuts him off, and Eddie groans. “You’re such an asshole sometimes, you know that?”

“Maybe, just a little.” Buck pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and worries at it. Eddie can’t help but stare, and his own lip tingles as if remembering how it felt when Buck nipped and licked and teased it. “Something smells fantastic. Is that take out, or did you lie to me about not knowing how to cook?” Buck asks, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“I cooked, but it’s literally the only thing I know how to make,” Eddie says. “Most of it came out of boxes and packages anyway so don’t get too excited.”

“I’m sure it’s great.” And as if on cue, Buck’s stomach growls, and his cheeks burn a pretty shade of pink. 

Ripping his gaze from Buck’s plump lips, Eddie heads into the kitchen and grabs placemats for the table. “Take a seat.”

Buck rubs his hands together, but instead of taking a seat, he goes straight to the cutlery drawer. He takes two forks out of the drawer, then hesitates and looks to Eddie with an inexplicable look in his eyes. His cheeks have lost their rosiness, and he’s suddenly gone pale. “Um, I mean, did you want me to go sit down?”

Eddie tries to hide the unease washing over him. Is that it? Does Buck think he shouldn’t take initiative because it would somehow offend Eddie? “I wouldn’t mind a little help setting up, if you’re okay with working for your dinner.” Eddie tries to keep his tone light, and the tightness around his chest eases a touch when Buck’s back relaxes and tension bleeds from his broad shoulders. 

“I’d love to help.” 

“Can you grab three spoons as well as the forks, then?” Eddie says as he grabs the bowl of chicken and peppers and brings it to the table. “Oh, and the tortillas are warming in the warmer.”

Eddie turns and busies himself with grabbing things out of the fridge, but he keeps a discreet eye on Buck as he arranges the spoons in the middle of the table then grabs the tortilla warmer on the counter next to the stove. Eddie’s no stranger to the traditionalist Dominants and how they expect their Submissives to behave, but that is so not him, and he needs Buck to know that. 

He  _ likes _ it when Buck takes charge, because Buck is a person first, and a Submissive second, and no amount of out-dated expectations formulated over centuries of Submissive oppression can convince Eddie otherwise. 

And then it hits him. Like a sledgehammer to the kneecaps, and Eddie sucks in a sharp breath. That’s why Buck ran. That’s why he was avoiding Eddie at the Christmas party. It all makes sense now, and it makes Eddie’s blood boil with rage. Just what happened to Buck for him to have such a visceral reaction simply because he took charge and _helped_ _Eddie avoid a panic attack_?

“Eddie?” Buck’s voice cuts through Eddie’s darkening thoughts, and judging by the expression on Buck’s face and the tone of his voice, this isn’t the first time he’s called Eddie’s name.

“Uh, sorry.” Eddie nudges the fridge door shut with his hip and carries the salsa, sour cream, and shredded cheese to the table. “What did you say?”

“Nothing.” Buck shrugs. “Just that the fridge started beeping and you seemed a million miles away.” 

“Sorry,” Eddie says. “Got caught up thinking.”

“Yeah? What about?”

Eddie swallows. “You, actually.”

The pretty blush crawls back into Buck’s cheeks, and he clears his throat as he takes a seat at the dinner table. It’s the same spot he took the last time he ate here. “Oh.” He’s quiet for a beat, then says, “All good things, I hope.”

“The best.” Eddie smiles across the table and tries to put as much feeling as he can into those two little words. He hasn’t know Buck long, but there’s just something so special and genuine about him that there’s no way he’s anything but a good man. And Eddie wants Buck to know that. 

Buck lets out a self-deprecating chuckle and shakes his head, but he doesn’t say anything, just looks at Eddie with those brilliant blue eyes that are so alive it's easy to get lost in them. Like staring into the depth of the ocean or into the vast sky, both mysterious and dangerous, but majestic to behold. 

Eddie’s stomach growls this time, breaking the moment, and they both laugh. “I guess, um, let’s eat.” Eddie opens the warmer and picks up a warm, soft tortilla, then waits for Buck to do the same before putting the lid back on. 

They fix themselves fajitas, and Buck’s moan around his first bite should be fucking illegal. It’s deep, and throaty, and Eddie wonders if his store-bought tortillas and packaged taco seasoning is really that good. 

“Man, this is really good,” Buck says between bites. 

“Yeah?” Eddie chews slowly as he watches Buck take another large bite, his own fajita hovering over his plate and forgotten. 

“Mhm,” Buck hums as he chews, and Eddie can’t help but notice the twitch of Buck’s jaw. 

“Well in that case, please have another.” Eddie lifts the tortilla warmer lid just as Buck shoves the rest of his wrap into his mouth. 

Buck grabs two tortillas and grins at Eddie, then busies himself with the fillings. Buck eats like he does everything else, with such single-minded focus and no reservations. He’s like this with the children in his cooking class, like this when he teaches Chris how to use a knife despite Eddie’s protective hovering. It’s intoxicating, and it attracts Eddie to him like a moth to a flame. 

They talk about nothing and everything as they plow through the giant bowl of chicken and vegetables and two packs of tortillas, even though Eddie feels like he’s the one who ate most of the food. Buck talks about how he went from working part-time at the community centre to pitching the cooking class to actually getting it approved. It sounds like quite a frustrating and stressful process, one Eddie’s sure he’d never be able to follow through with.

In return, Eddie tells Buck a little about Texas, about his Swedish mother, Mexican father, his too-observant  _ abuela _ , and his irritatingly nosy sisters, and how much he loves to hate them sometimes. 

Eddie notes how little Buck talks about his past, about his family and about Maddie, and it’s probably got something to do with being in the system. Eddie doesn’t push no matter how curious he is. It’s not his place, and it certainly isn’t the most important or interesting thing about Buck. 

After dinner, Buck helps Eddie wash the dishes even though Eddie has a perfectly fine dishwasher. Doing dishes has become some sort of thing for them, it seems, and Eddie’s happy to continue this weird little tradition they’re forming. It’s soothing having Buck beside him, elbows deep in murky, soapy water while Eddie rinses and dries. Their fingers brush occasionally, and every time it happens, Eddie’s heart does a somersault. 

“I’m going to put on a pot of coffee,” Eddie says as he drapes the damp dish towel over the dish drainer, letting it air out. “You want some?”

Buck drieshis hands on the towel and nods. “Yeah, coffee’d be great.”

Eddie pulls the coffee can from the cupboard and starts counting scoops. One, two, three—

“Six, eight, fifty-two, nine,” Buck sidles next to Eddie and sing-songs. 

Eddie tries to ignore him, but it’s impossible, and before long, Eddie loses count of how many scoops of coffee he’s dumped into the filter. “Buck, stop,” he chides and glares at Buck, but both his words and his glare lack any real heat. 

Buck laughs, the sound infectious, and Eddie can’t help the chuckle escaping his lips. They wait for the coffee to brew in silence, letting the gurgle of water boiling and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee fill the room. At some point, the back of Buck’s hand brushes against Eddie’s, and they thread their fingers together. It’s such a mundane little thing, having someone next to him while they wait for the coffee, but it’s been so long since Eddie had anyone to share a cup of joe with that this feels entirely alien. But in a good way. 

With coffee of undetermined strength in one hand, and his other hand still hanging onto Buck’s, they make their way into the living room. Eddie leads them to the large couch, and Buck takes a seat next to him with a neat three inches between them despite their joined hands. Buck’s expression is content as he sips his black coffee, and Eddie stares into his mug of too much cream and sugar before taking a sip. 

The hot coffee is sweet and creamy as it slides down Eddie’s throat, and he takes a deep, indulgent breath and moans. Buck tenses beside him, and his blush spreads all the way down the collar of his shirt. Eddie wonders just how far that blush goes, and feels his own cheeks burn.

“So, I know this probably isn’t the most amazing first date,” Eddie says, breaking the silence.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Buck retorts and takes another sip of his coffee. “Good food, good coffee, good company”—he squeezes Eddie’s hand and Eddie’s chest swells—“and I swear I saw dessert in the fridge.”

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” 

Buck grins. His eyes flick over Eddie’s shoulder and his grin falters. The dusting of pink in his cheeks darken, and his gaze shifts to the floor as if he’s embarrassed. His fingers spasm between Eddie’s, and he clears his throat. 

“Um, so,” he starts, clears his throat again, then forces his gaze back up to meet Eddie’s. “What is dessert?”

“What, I thought you saw?” Eddie smirks.

“I caught a glimpse of something red and green and that was about it.”

Eddie gives Buck’s hand one last squeeze, then puts his mug on the coffee table before getting up. “Wait here.” 

“All right.” 

He hurries back into the kitchen, pulls the plate of chocolate-covered strawberries out of the fridge, and stops short. Shannon taught him how to make these the first year they got married so Eddie could impress her family at Christmas dinner. Shannon was always looking out for him, even after he abandoned her with Chris, even when their marriage got rocky. And now, even in her death, she’s still helping him out. 

Eddie swallows and tries to ignore the lump in his throat. A small part of him, the part that thinks he’ll never be ready to love another like he loved Shannon, burns with guilt. Despite the fact that their marriage was failing even before she passed away, Eddie did love her dearly, and a part of him will probably always love her for giving him Chris. 

He inhales slowly and takes his time peeling the cling wrap off the platter, making sure not to disturb the ribbons of white chocolate drizzled across each plump berry.

When he left Texas, he wasn’t looking for anything. In fact, it was the opposite. Every little thing back home reminded him of Shannon. The grocery store where they shopped every weekend. The bakery down the street that made their favourite dessert. The park they ran in together every morning. 

The hospital where Shannon gave birth to Chris. The airport where they said countless goodbyes. 

Being in Texas, living in the house that Shannon made into their home was like a constant reminder of every mistake Eddie’s ever made, big or small. It was suffocating, and instead of facing the consequences of those mistakes, Eddie ran. 

No, when he left Texas, he just wanted to forget. What he didn’t expect or want is to find someone who makes him feel alive again. Someone who eases the tension between his shoulder blades with a simple smile. Someone who, despite every wrong thing Eddie has done, still wants to be with him. 

Eddie glances over his shoulder into the living room and his breath catches. Buck is standing by the fireplace, his head slightly bent as he studies the photographs on the mantle. He stops at one photo in particular, and Eddie can just make out Shannon’s wind blown hair as she cradles baby Chris in her arms. 

He pads into the living room on silent feet, places the plate on the table next to his mug, and walks up to Buck. “That’s my favourite picture of them together.”

Buck turns to face Eddie, guilt evident in his expression as if he got caught looking at something he shouldn’t be. “I’m sorry, I—”

“No, it’s okay.” Eddie gives him a reassuring smile, then turns and takes the picture from the mantle. “This was a couple of weeks after Chris was born. I got leave to come home and see them.” Eddie swallows and remembers the acrid taste of terror like it was yesterday. “I was scared shitless. Didn’t know what to expect, you know? Then I saw her, standing there, wind whipping her hair every which way, and the look on her face when she leaned down to whisper into the little bundle in her arms was just pure joy. That was the happiest I’d ever seen her. Even happier than on our wedding day.”

Buck looks at him and smiles a soft, gentle smile. “Yeah?”

Eddie chuckles and gently places the frame back on the mantle. “Yeah.” 

Maybe it’s the soft quiver in Eddie’s voice, or maybe it’s the way Eddie sways on his feet as the unexpected walk down memory lane rocks him. Whatever it is, Buck seems to sense his distress and shuffles closer, one large hand wrapping Eddie’s in a firm grasp. 

Buck’s hand is solid and warm, and when he slips his fingers into the gaps between Eddie’s, something settles in Eddie’s chest. They study the picture for another long, silent moment, then Buck leans close and brushes his lips against the corner of Eddie’s mouth. 

“She was beautiful,” he murmurs when he pulls back, a trace of sadness in his faint smile. “You must’ve loved her very much.”

Eddie swallows hard and leans into the strength seeping into him through Buck’s hand even as another pang of guilt shoots through him. “Yeah, I did,” he says, then clears his throat and tugs on Buck’s hand. “You have Shannon to thank for dessert, too.” 

Buck’s eyes widen, and an excited glint lights up the blue in his eyes. “Chocolate-covered strawberries? Did you?” He looks from the plate to Eddie, then back to the beautifully arranged strawberries. 

Eddie nods, and he can’t help but be infected by Buck’s excitement. “Shannon taught me a long time ago.” Eddie walks around the coffee table. “I sent some to  _ abuela _ ’s with Chris already, so these are all ours.” He sits down and reaches for a berry. 

Instead of sitting next to Eddie, Buck shifts his weight from one foot to the other and fidgets with the hem of his shirt. Eddie pats the cushion next to him, and when Buck still doesn’t make a move to sit, he looks up to find Buck staring at the space by Eddie’s feet on the floor. 

“Buck?” Eddie places the strawberry back on the plate and frowns. 

Buck swallows, but he doesn’t respond. The apple of his cheeks are a deep crimson, and his face is pinched as if he’s having some sort of internal argument. 

“Buck,” Eddie repeats and tries not to let his confusion show. What the hell is going on? One second Buck’s excited for strawberries, and the next he looks like he’s choking on his tongue? “What’s wrong?”

“Um,” Buck mumbles, his eyes darting between the plush cushion by Eddie’s arm and the space next to Eddie’s feet again. 

Realization dawns on Eddie, then, and his mouth dries. He gets up, grabs the cushion and drops it by his feet, then comes around the table and takes Buck’s hand. “Do you…do you want to kneel next to me?”

Buck nods and lets out a sigh as if he’s been holding his breath. Eddie leads Buck back to the couch and waits. Buck glances at Eddie, then bends one knee and places it delicately on the cushion. It takes him a second to arrange his miles and miles of legs on the cushion in the narrow space between the couch and the coffee table, and by the time Buck’s finally settled with his butt on his heels, Eddie’s finding it a little hard to breathe. 

It’s hard not to stare at the stretch of fabric across Buck’s thick thighs. Hard not to notice the smooth curve of his ass when he shifts to get comfortable. It’s impossible to miss the sense of calm that seems to blanket across Buck the moment his knees strike the pillow. Has he been wanting to do that all night? To kneel? To kneel  _ for Eddie _ ? 

After the utter disaster at the club, Eddie hasn’t dared think about doing anything that would put Buck at a disadvantage. Biology or not, Buck’s a person first, and a sub second, and until Eddie’s sure Buck’s comfortable with him, he isn’t going to ask anything of Buck. 

And yet…

A swell of excitement laced with fear bursts from Eddie’s chest. He drops onto the couch because that’s where he’s supposed to be, not because his knees have turned into jello. No. Absolutely not. Buck glances up at him through thick blond lashes, his skin flushed a gorgeous shade of pink, and the tip of his tongue darts out to swipe across his lips. 

Eddie’s heart nearly falls out of his chest. 

Buck slow blinks and grins cheekily at him, and Eddie takes a deep breath and lets the air out slowly as he tries to collect all the little pieces of his combusted brain. He probably knows exactly what he’s doing to Eddie. Buck sits up straighter and puffs out his chest, and the small of his back curves in a seductive arc. 

Scratch that, he definitely knows. 

Buck glances at the strawberries, then turns his big, watery eyes on Eddie, his lips parting and his tongue darting out once more like a silent plea. Eddie has no fucking idea what he’s doing, but something tugs at the muscles of his arm, his hand, his fingers, and he acts on nothing but pure instinct when he plucks a ripe, plump strawberry from the platter. 

Something stormy flashes behind Buck’s eyes and his breath hitches. Eddie holds Buck’s gaze and brings the strawberry to Buck’s lips. He holds it there, the tip of the berry resting on Buck’s bottom lip, and they both freeze as the moment ensnares them. The chocolate melts a velvety smear on soft, pliant flesh. Eddie swallows, his gaze shifting to Buck’s mouth, and he nudges the tip of the berry between Buck’s lips. 

Buck’s mouth opens and he licks the fruit into his mouth, between his teeth, and when he bites down, a burst of red juice stains his lips a vibrant red. Eddie’s light-headed, and his whole body vibrates with every shift of Buck’s jaw as he chews and swallows. His lips part, and Eddie presses a little more fruit into Buck’s mouth. 

There’s something extremely erotic about this simple act of feeding Buck a strawberry. Something private and intimate. It sets every one of Eddie’s nerve endings on fire. Buck leans forward and takes another bite, his teeth closing right at the green stem where Eddie’s holding onto the strawberry like a tether. Plush lips graze Eddie’s fingertips, and the brief contact sends jolts of lightning down Eddie’s arm. 

The look on Buck’s face is reverent as he gazes at Eddie. His eyes are bright, pupils blown wide as inky pools of arousal swallow thinning rings of blue. His cheeks are flushed, his lips parted and stained so red they’re begging to be kissed, and his chest has stopped heaving as if he’s trying to draw air into laboured lungs. He’s staring up at Eddie, his extra inches meaning nothing when he’s on his knees by Eddie’s feet, and his face is serene, vulnerable, trusting. 

Eddie is flying. And flying by the seat of his pants. He’s never had a partner who wants to receive him this way, not even Shannon, and Eddie’s not sure how to handle it. How far to push. How much to take. A flicker of fear reins him in, and he’s distinctly aware of how similar this is to that night at the club. Except this time, he’s prepared. 

He picks up a second strawberry and brings it to his own lips. Buck’s eyes track his every movement, and when Eddie bites through the brittle chocolate to sink his teeth into the flesh of his strawberry, Buck’s eyes darken and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. The strawberry is sweet with a hint of tartness, the chocolate is bittersweet and luxurious, but none of that is as delicious as the way Buck’s eyes darken, the way his skin flushes, and the way he sways just a little closer to Eddie as if he’s drawn to Eddie like magnets. 

Heat pools in Eddie’s stomach, and when he allows his eyes to roam down the muscular plane of Buck’s body to the juncture of his thighs, Eddie’s cock twitches and swells. Because Buck’s already sporting a tent, and Jesus H. Christ, it’s an impressive tent. 

“Buck?” Eddie whispers, his voice low and husky with desire.

“Hm?”

“I want to kiss you.” 

And the grin Buck gives him should absolutely, without a doubt, be illegal. 


	10. Chapter 10

Eddie tastes like strawberries and chocolate. 

Buck’s eyes flutter shut as Eddie’s tongue presses past his lips, and with each gentle lick, the taste of strawberries and chocolate fades and the flavour of Eddie’s mouth emerges in intoxicating waves. The kiss is soft, but Buck can feel the tremor rolling through Eddie, as if he’s holding back a tempest of desires he’s afraid will break Buck. 

Colour explodes behind his eyelids, like blotches of paint splashed against a dark canvas. His breath hitches, and Eddie chooses this moment to press in harder, one strong hand gripping the back of Buck’s head. Something clicks into place in Buck’s chest and, just like that night in the club, Buck sinks into a soft place where his mind is empty and his body is free. 

Eddie kisses him like this, slowly, languidly, and the ebb and flow of it drags Buck under like an undercurrent. 

An undeniable urge bubbles to the surface of Buck’s being, and he wants to be good for Eddie. Wants to give Eddie everything he desires. To please, to obey, to be a marionette and Eddie’s the marionettist. 

Feeling this way for a man he’s only just met should scare him but Buck’s not afraid, and  _ that _ should terrify him. He doesn’t know how he knows but he’s sure, like he knows the Earth is round and the Sun is scorching, that Eddie wouldn’t hurt him. Not in the way he’s been hurt. And that’s enough for Buck. 

Like all good things, the kiss ends when they’re both breathless. Eddie pulls back and Buck can’t help the soft whine that escapes his throat. Eddie chuckles and strokes a thumb across Buck’s bottom lip, and Buck’s tongue flicks out to catch the pad before Eddie pulls that away, too. Salt and chocolate and the faint freshness of a strawberry stem burst on the tip of his tongue. 

Eddie’s eyes darken, honey brown turning into something more luxurious and mysterious, and Buck swallows. Eddie straightens, but his hand on the back of Buck’s head stays put, fingers scratching softly against Buck’s scalp. Buck purrs. 

In the haze that follows, another berry appears in front of him, and Buck’s lips part without bidding. He bites through the chocolate crust and into the juicy centre, and the burst of flavours enhances the lingering taste of the kiss, brightens it like a filter on a photograph. Buck glances up through his lashes and finds Eddie’s gaze on him, beaming down on him like sunlight, and he preens, just a little. 

The strawberry shrinks with each bite, and when he gets to the end, Buck looks up once more and stares into Eddie’s eyes as he takes the chocolate covered finger and the stem into his mouth. Eddie’s face blossoms with the prettiest shade of pink and his chest heaves. 

Buck can imagine how he must look right now, and he hopes like hell Eddie likes what he sees. 

He wraps his tongue around the digit, sucking on it gently, lapping at it like a lollipop. When he finally lets the finger slip from his mouth, Eddie shifts in his seat and tilts his hips as if he’s trying to hide something. Buck grins, then, and smacks his lips. 

Eddie’s throaty chuckle washes over him, the sound going straight to Buck’s already aching cock, and he’s reminded again just how much he  _ wants _ . 

He doesn’t say anything, thought, doesn’t bring attention to it, because look at all the nice things that are happening to him right now when he’s not pushy. When he doesn’t demand. When he lets the Dominant lead. 

Something dark and slimy skitters across his skin, but it’s gone before Buck can process it in his subspace-induced haze. Instead, another strawberry hovers by his lips, and he accepts the offered fruit with an eager bite. He’s not sure how many chocolate covered strawberries he’s had, and for once in his life, he doesn’t care about the calories. Doesn’t fret about how he’s going to burn it off. 

All that matters is that Eddie’s feeding him, doting on him, giving him this sweet treat because Buck’s  _ good _ . 

Eventually, they run out of strawberries, but Eddie’s hand is still in his hair, blunt nails still dragging across his scalp, and Buck leans against Eddie’s leg as he finds his centre. They stay like this for a minute, an hour, a lifetime, Buck doesn’t know, but time has lost its grip on him as he sits in serenity. Perhaps for the first time since his parents died, Buck’s carefree, and this feels a hundred times better than even that night in the club. 

Buck shifts and winces when his knees ache, and he frowns in confusion. Beside him, Eddie’s leg moves, and the next thing Buck knows, strong hands are pulling him off the cushion and into Eddie’s lap on the couch. More aches filter through, and with each passing minute, the buzzing haze lifts and pins and needles creep into his calves and feet. 

Eddie strokes his arm, and Buck curls up in Eddie’s lap and lays his head on Eddie’s chest. He doesn’t remember ever cuddling with anyone like this. It’s nice, and it’s the softest come-down he’s ever had. 

A tiny voice screams for him to get up and walk it off. He doesn’t need after care like this. Shouldn’t need it because it’s a burden. But when he makes to move away, Eddie’s arms tighten around him, and he whispers something Buck doesn’t quite catch, but it sounds a lot like  _ please _ and  _ just a little longer.  _

Buck closes his eyes and waits for the pins and needles to fade. When he opens his eyes again, the softer buttery light is sharper, more focused, and his body is heavy, as if he’d just come to shore from a swim. There’s a heaviness on top of his head, and when he looks up, Eddie’s cheek brushes his forehead before he straightens and blinks as if waking up from a trance. 

A slow smile spreads across Eddie’s face, and contentment rolls off him in waves. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Buck murmurs, and he’s surprised his voice is slurred. That’s interesting. 

A chuckle bubbles from Eddie’s chest, and he pulls back to study Buck’s face. “You feeling okay?”

Buck nods and swallows. Okay? He’s better than okay. He feels…phenomenal. On top of the world, even. “So this is what it’s like,” he says without thinking. And regrets the words as soon as they slipped out.

“What’s what like?” 

_ Shit _ .

“Nothing.”

“Buck.” Eddie’s frown deepens, and his voice carries a weight Buck’s not used to hearing from him. 

Buck chews on his bottom lip and contemplates brushing it off as something stupid. Maybe make a joke or something, but the concern in Eddie’s eyes gives him pause. “Coming out of sub space on my terms,” Buck says eventually, then adds, “well, our terms.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. “You’re telling me this is your first time?”

Buck shrugs. “Sorta. To be fair, I’ve also never gone into sub space like that before either. Well, except for  _ that _ night, so all this is very new.”

Eddie grimaces and avoids Buck’s eyes. “I’m sorry. About that night.”

Buck reaches up and cups Eddie’s cheek, turning his head until Buck can find his eyes. “I’m okay. It was an accident. Stop apologizing or I may think you’re really Canadian or something.”

Eddie chuckles, and the tension drains from the bubble surrounding them. Buck can stay here, wrapped up in Eddie’s arms, forever, but Eddie obviously has other ideas. He looks past Buck at something, then gently shifts Buck off his lap like he’s handling a newborn kitten. 

“Can you stand?” 

Buck’s not sure, but he’s not going to tell Eddie that. “Yeah. Why?”

“Well, I do have one more thing planned for our big date, if you’re up for it,” Eddie says. 

Even though Buck is a puddle of goo right now, there’s no way he’s going to say no to something Eddie planned for them. He nods, then shoves onto unsteady feet. “Where’re we going?”

“Hold your horses,” Eddie groans. “Not all of us can come down so quickly.”

Buck looks away and hopes Eddie doesn’t see the shock on his face. The only other dom who’s ever shown weakness in front of Buck is Athena, and he chalks it up to her being his mom and not his dom. Not that Eddie’s  _ his _ dom. Well, is he? This is a  _ date _ , isn’t it? 

Every dom Buck’s ever been with has been about being in control. Being on top. Being right. He’s not sure what to make of Eddie, what to make of his vulnerability, but he thinks he likes it. A lot. 

Buck takes Eddie’s hand and helps him stand, and they both sway on their feet. “I’m just stubborn. If I’m being honest, I’m still pretty wobbly myself.”

Eddie’s brows furrow once more. “Do you need anything? Some chocolate? Hot bath?” 

“I don’t usually need aftercare,” Buck says, and when Eddie looks like he’s going to argue, Buck shakes his head. “No, really. I mean, it’s nice and I enjoy it, but I don’t  _ normally _ need it.” It’s not a lie. Buck has never needed after care until that night at the club, and even then, he made it through, didn’t he? 

Eddie looks pensive, but his shoulders relax a touch. “What if I still want to?”

Something warm flutters in Buck’s chest, and he leans in and presses a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips. “Just talk to me then. Send me a text or two. Let me know you’re thinking of me.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Buck smiles and pecks Eddie’s lips again for emphasis. 

“If you…need anything, anything at all, from me, with all this”—Eddie waves a hand between them—“just ask, okay?” 

“I will,” Buck lies, because the last thing he wants is to lose sight of the line in the sand he only just found and fuck all this up. But Eddie needs to hear it, and Buck will do anything to wipe that worried frown off his face. 

Eddie smiles, and relief softens the corners of his eyes. Buck looks away quickly and clears his throat. 

“So, about this thing you’ve planned,” he says, changing the subject so he doesn’t have to dwell on the swell of guilt in his gut. 

“Oh, right, yes.” Eddie’s smile widens and he takes Buck’s hand. 

They head down the hall and up a flight of stairs. Buck’s heart skips a beat as Eddie pulls him into what must be the master bedroom. This is  _ Eddie’s _ room. Buck inhales sharply and tries to slow his beating heart. The room is spartan, with a white dresser to Buck’s left and a large king-size bed pushed up against the far wall. The bed is neatly made, the sheets snow white under the moonlight streaming through the window, and an image of Buck spread out on crumpled sheets with Eddie on top of him flashes across his mind. 

His cock twitches with interest, and Buck looks away quickly and follows Eddie through a second door and into the walk-in closet. Eddie pulls on a thin chain, and a trap door in the ceiling opens. Eddie jumps and grabs onto a wooden bar and a ladder drops with him. 

Buck blinks and looks from the ladder to Eddie. “Well, definitely did not expect that.” Buck looks over his shoulder into the bedroom then turns back to Eddie with a sly grin on his face. 

As if Eddie can see the salacious image in Buck’s mind, his cheeks colour and he swallows. “Okay, maybe I should have explained first.” He looks so contrite Buck can’t help but chuckle. Eddie gives him the stink eye, but the smile twitching on his lips robs it of any heat. “Anyway, after you.” He takes a step back and points at the ladder. 

Buck climbs through the trap door and emerges onto a small deck on the side of the house, right below the roof. The space is cozy, just enough for two people to fit if they snuggle, and it’s just high enough that Buck can see over the twinkling lights of LA. He turns in time to see Eddie’s head poke through the door. He hands Buck two thick blankets, then climbs all the way through and shuts the door behind him. 

Eddie checks his watch, then takes one blanket from Buck and spreads it on the floor. He plonks down and motions for Buck to join him, then arranges the second blanket on top of them. Winter in LA isn’t exactly frigid, but the night air is cool enough that Buck snuggles closer to Eddie for comfort and warmth. 

“This is the coolest thing ever,” Buck says and means it. A little hide-out on the side of the house where he can sit and escape for a while is amazing. 

“I didn’t even know this was here when we first moved in,” Eddie says. 

“How’d you find it?”

“Chris really wanted to yank on the chain and see what came out,” Eddie says with a shudder. “I think he was hoping for a dead body or something.”

Buck throws his head back and laughs. “Didn’t take him to be the morbid type.”

“He isn’t, most of the time. But once in a while he says the darnedest things,” Eddie says as he pulls his phone from his pocket. 

He mucks with some app for a second, giving Buck time to stare out into the city. LA is so alive at night, and as much as Buck would love to be able to see the stars, the twinkling lights are a close second in beauty. 

He didn’t always love the city. Hated it even, when some drunk driver the city spat out killed his parents and grandparents. Hated it when he was forced to navigate and survive in it alone when Maddie was taken from him. But things are different now, and sitting here next to Eddie, with his body still lax from the strawberries and chocolate and kisses, the city doesn’t feel so empty and daunting. 

“Found it,” Eddie says, more to himself than to Buck. 

Music drifts from the speakers on Eddie’s phone, and Buck cocks an eyebrow. “Found what?” he asks. 

Before Eddie can answer, the music fades, replaced by a man’s voice saying, “All right folks, here’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for. Ready or not, here we go,” he exclaims. “Ten, nine, eight—”

Buck’s eyes widen and he blinks at Eddie. “Oh God, I totally forgot!”

“—seven, six, five, four—”

Eddie smiles and points in the general direction of the city and says, “Just you wait.”

“—three, two, one. Happy New Year!” 

As if on cue, fireworks light up the sky. Everywhere. Multiple clusters of exploding lights erupt as different parts of LA bring in the new year with colourful displays. Buck sucks in a sharp breath as he watches the city explode with colours. He’s seen fireworks at New Year’s before, but it’s always at parties, and there were always bodies around him and people demanding his attention. Being up here, hidden in this private little pocket, and watching the city come alive with celebration is breathtaking. 

Eddie slips an arm around Buck’s waist, and Buck turns his attention from the fireworks to Eddie. Splashes of yellow and red and blue and green shifts across his face, and Buck’s so close he can see the miniature fireworks reflected in Eddie’s beautiful brown eyes. 

“Thank you,” Buck whispers, “for the best night of my life.”

Eddie smiles, and his eyes turn into happy little half moons. “Happy New Year, Evan.” 

Buck’s chest squeezes at the sound of his name on Eddie’s lips, and he leans in and steals those lips for a New Year’s kiss. 

===

It happens more often than not, but that doesn’t make it suck any less. 

Buck scans the table laden with untouched food and sighs. It’s Sunday dinner and his perfect roast is getting cold because a call came in just as everyone was sitting down. Emergencies have no respect for dinner plans or hungry bellies, and Buck felt sorry for the crew when the alarm blared. 

But, duty calls, and hungry bellies can wait. Besides, this means he’ll get to stick around a little longer and catch Eddie as he comes in for the night shift. 

Thoughts of Eddie bring a smile to his face, and Buck’s glad no one is around to see his love-struck grin. It’s been two weeks since New Year’s Eve. Two wonderful weeks filled with flirty texts and dirty phone calls. Two weeks of stolen kisses, whether it’s at the station when Buck comes by to visit or at Eddie’s place during cooking lessons when Christopher isn’t looking.

The one-eighteen is used to Buck coming around, so they suspect nothing when he comes by a little more frequently with muffins or brownies or cookies. At home, he tries to appear as normal as possible, but it’s hard not to smile when his phone buzzes in his pocket with a text, knowing it’s most likely from Eddie because Buck doesn’t have anyone else he texts with on the regular. 

Athena’s caught him smiling like a dopey teenager at his phone a few times. The look she gives him every time is suspicious and amused, but she doesn’t ask and Buck doesn’t tell. 

Thinking about the last round of raunchy texts has his face burning. Buck clears his throat and bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling even though there’s no one to see him, then picks up the roast and pops it back in the oven. He turns the heat on low, just enough to keep the roast warm, then returns to the table and covers the sides dishes with cling wrap. 

The station is eerily quiet. Buck pulls out his phone and tries to find something interesting to read, but his mind won’t quiet and before long he gives up and heads downstairs to the engine bay. The space feels incredibly vast without the parked trucks, and his footsteps echo as he strolls along the perimeter.

In the far corner is the gym he frequented before he started working at the community centre and had free access to the larger gym there. Some days, he misses working out here. Chim is always a good sport about spotting, and sometimes the competitive atmosphere is just what Buck needs to push himself. 

And now there’s the added bonus of watching Eddie work out. 

Thoughts of a grunting, sweaty Eddie pushing his body to its physical limits stirs Buck’s blood and he quickly adjusts the front of his pants and hurries past the gym and into the locker room. The last thing he needs is an aching erection when the crew comes back. 

The locker room is surrounded by glass walls and Buck’s never understood the point. Why have walls if they’re see-through? A familiar ache in his chest flares as he taps the lockers on his way past. He didn’t stop coming to the gym here because the one at the community centre is better. He stopped coming because watching the men and women of the one-eighteen change into their uniforms through these glass walls made him painfully aware of how much he didn’t belong. 

And how desperately he wants to. 

He stopped working out here every day, but he still comes by every Sunday to make dinner. A part of him is sure he’s a damn masochist, and it has nothing to do with him being a Submissive. Why else would he keep coming back every weekend? Sure, he loves Bobby and Athena and Harry and May and it pains him that some weeks, between Bobby’s shifts here and Athena’s schedule with the LAPD, they don’t even get one night to have a meal together, but that’s not why he insists on dragging his whole family here every Sunday night. 

No, he comes here every Sunday so he can feel like he’s a part of something that matters. And isn’t that just all kinds of pathetic. 

Buck tries to swallow the lump of self-hatred lodged in his throat. He wonders what it would be like,  _ feel _ like, to wear the uniform even just once. His feet stop moving, and when he loops up at the locker in front of him, his breath catches. Eddie’s locker. Wth Eddie’s uniform hanging inside. 

He swallows, this time to calm his nerves even as an idea creeps into his mind. It’ll just be for a minute. No one’s here. There are no cameras in the locker room. No one would know. Wiping his sweaty palms on the side of his pants, Buck opens Eddie’s locker and stares at the crisp blue uniform hanging on the hanger, with the embroidered  _ Diaz  _ on the breast pocket. 

This is a stupid idea. He shouldn’t. But his hands move as if possessed, and before he  _ really _ talks himself out of it, Buck pulls the shirt over his t-shirt. It’s a little tight around the shoulders, but otherwise, Eddie’s uniform fits him just fine. 

Buck holds his breath until he’s fixed every button and smoothed down the starched fabric. The weight of the uniform feels good on his shoulders, and when he finally dares to take a look at himself in the mirror, his heart swells and whoops inside his chest. They say the uniform holds powers, that it gives strength to the person wearing it. Until this very second, Buck thought it was all a bunch of bullshit, but now he’s not so sure. 

He feels taller, feels more powerful, more…purposeful. Like just by wearing this thick piece of fabric, that his life has more meaning than it did just mere seconds ago. And this shirt isn’t even  _ his _ . Conflicting emotions twist in his gut, but there’s one that Buck’s painfully familiar with. An ache to earn the right to wear this uniform burns so brightly it physically hurts, and with it, every last fear and doubt Buck’s ever had comes crashing into him like a wrecking ball. 

Suddenly, the uniform is too heavy, too suffocating, and Buck wants it off. He fumbles at the buttons and curses his trembling fingers. 

“Hello?” A voice echoes in the large engine bay. Buck freezes, his blood pounding so loudly in his ear he misses the panic in the voice until it calls out louder. “Hello? Help me. Please someone, please h-help me.” 

Buck bolts out of the locker room toward the stumbling figure in the middle of the engine bay. His face is blotchy, his breathing laboured, and he’s clutching at his left arm as if he’s trying to yank the thing off. Buck skids to a halt and grabs the man just as he stumbles and falls. His eyes roll into the back of his head, then his body sags as he passes out. 

“Shit,” Buck hisses. He lowers the man to the floor and scans the walls of the garage, hoping to find a first aid kit. “Fucking hell, why wouldn’t they keep one downstairs?” He glances at the unconscious man and swallows. This man needs help, needs  _ his  _ help. 

A sense of calm washes over him, and his hands stop trembling. He straddles the man’s chest, pulls out his phone and dials nine-one-one, then drops the phone on the floor and turns on speaker phone. 

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”

“My name is Evan Buckley, I have a man in cardiac arrest who needs immediate medical assistance,” he says calmly as he places his stacked palms on the man’s sternum and starts chest compressions. He’s had first aid training, Bobby and Athena made sure of it when he first moved in with them, and all that training comes flooding back as if he took the course yesterday. He gives the operator the address for the station, then pinches the man’s nose and seals his mouth over his lips and blows two breaths into his lungs. 

“Are you able to perform CPR?” 

“Doing it right now,” he huffs as he leans back and starts compressions once more. 

“Help is on the way.”

Buck doesn’t answer. Doesn’t have the energy to spare as he pumps the man’s chest. Something gives under his palm, and he winces as the sharp crack of a rib breaking reverberates up his arms. A broken rib is better than dead. 

He doesn’t remember how many rounds he’s done. Two breaths. Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Thirty compressions. Doesn’t hear the distant sirens drawing nearer with every second. Doesn’t feel the ground vibrate as paramedics rush into the garage. Doesn’t feel the hand gently pulling him away so the professionals can get to work. 

His arms burn, his chest heaves, and he blinks sweat from his eyes. As the surge of adrenaline coursing through him peters off, he collapses a few feet away from the victim with a muttered curse. He watches intently as the paramedic attaches pads to the man’s torso and runs the defibrillator, and he huffs out the breath he didn’t know he was holding when the man’s heart comes back online. 

The rhythmic  _ beep beep beep _ that signifies life sends a wave of relief through him, and only then does he feel the deep ache in his muscles. 

A large hand lands on his shoulder. Buck startles, his eyes snapping up to find the captain of unit two-thirty-eight looking at him. He scrambles to his feet and straightens his shirt, and that’s when he remembers he’s still wearing Eddie’s uniform.  _ Shit. _

“Good job, Diaz,” the captain says with a smile. “Where’s the rest of your unit?”

“I’m n—” He clamps his mouth shut. How would he explain why he’s wearing Eddie’s uniform? Is there some sort of law against impersonating a first responder? Does he want to risk this getting back to the one-eighteen? What would Bobby think? What would  _ Eddie _ think? Buck takes a deep breath, discreet breath and forces the corners of his lips up. “They’re out on a call. I came in early to get ready for my shift.”

The captain claps his shoulder a couple times and gives him a squeeze. “I heard you were the top of your class. Now I see why Captain Nash wanted you so badly.”

Buck wants to dig a hole and die in it. Instead, he croaks a “thanks” and prays Eddie doesn’t choose this moment to show up for work. 

“If you ever get tired of these bozos here at the one-eighteen, come find me.” He winks, then hurries after his men as they load the now conscious man into the back of the ambulance. 

The ambulance peels out with sirens blaring just as Bobby and the rest of the one-eighteen pull up to the station. Blood drains and pools at Buck’s feet as he watches Bobby and three other firefighters hop out of the truck. Bobby greets the other captain. They shake hands. Buck can see the confusion on Bobby’s face. His lips move, but Buck can’t hear his words. 

Chim pulls the ambulance into the engine bay, parks, then jumps out with Hen right behind him. 

“What the hell happened?” Chim asks as he gives Buck a once over. “Is that Eddie’s uniform?”

There’s no use in denying it. Eddie’s name is literally stitched on the front. Buck swallows and sighs and nods curtly. 

Hen gives Chim a shove. She also looks Buck from head to toe, but the look in her eyes are kind and a little sad. “It suits you, Buck.”

His throat clenches, and he’s not sure what to say to that, but he can answer Chim’s first question. “Um, some guy stumbled in here having a heart attack. I called nine-one-one and gave him CPR till the pros got here.”

Hen opens her mouth to answer but something stops her. Buck turns and finds Bobby walking toward them, and the bottom of his stomach drops out. 

“All right, Chim, Hen, clean out the ambulance, then let’s go eat, I’m starving,” Bobby says. When Buck makes to leave, Bobby grabs him by the elbow. “Buck, wait.”

Buck swallows. “What’s up?”

“You know that man’s alive because of you, right?” 

Buck glances at the empty space in front of the garage where the ambulance was, then at the spot where the man collapsed. “Yeah, I guess.”

“No guess about it, son,” Bobby says, his voice soft and gentle and knowing. “You kept your cool and you kept him alive until help arrived. Not everyone can do that.”

Buck forces his lips into a smile and tries not to let bitterness seep into his voice. “I’m sure anyone else here would have done a much better job.”

Bobby stares at him for a long, loaded moment. He looks like he wants to say something but decides against it. Instead, he pats Buck’s arm and gives him a lopsided smile. “C’mon, let’s go eat that roast before we get another call.” If he notices Buck wearing Eddie’s uniform, he doesn't mention it.

“I’ll be right up.” Buck waits for Bobby to take off and store his gear and head upstairs before ducking into the very open and very transparent locker room. He breathes out a relieved sigh and marvels at his luck that no one else noticed his attire. Well, if they did, no one but Chim said anything. He shrugs out of the uniform quickly, hangs it back into Eddie’s locker, and tries to ignore the little piece of himself that’s being stuffed into the locker along with the shirt.

He shuts the door then leans his forehead against the cool metal and tries to collect himself. 

Is Bobby trying to hint at something or is that just wishful thinking on Buck’s part? He takes a few deep, calming breaths, then straightens his shirt before heading for the stairs. He looks back at Eddie’s locker, remembering the weight of that crisps uniform on his shoulders, and shudders as he heads upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. 


	11. Chapter 11

The ambulance rushes past Eddie as he pulls into the parking lot at the station. 

“What the?” He frowns, pulling into the first free spot he finds before dashing out of his truck and into the station to find Bobby and the rest of the one-eighteen jumping out of their fire truck. 

Another unit's fire truck is parked outside the garage. 

What the  _ hell _ is going on? 

Bobby, his expression mirroring Eddie’s confusion, walks up to the other unit’s captain. Their voices are drowned out by the hubbub around him, and cold dread washes over Eddie. Did someone get hurt? Why would they call someone from another station? Eddie’s heart hammers against this ribcage as he grabs the closest person he can find, hoping for answers. 

“What happened here?” The firefighter he haphazardly, and maybe a little rudely, stopped gives him an inquisitive look but says nothing. “Diaz, Eddie Diaz, I’m with the one-eighteen,” Eddie offers quickly. 

The man’s expression relaxes a touch. “A man having a heart attack came in looking for help,” he says and looks over his shoulder. Eddie follows his gaze and his mouth goes dry. “Your boy there called nine one one since everyone here was out on a call.” 

Eddie watches as Buck, Chim, and Hen exchange words. The look on Buck’s face sends a spear of worry through Eddie. He looks pale, his eyes a little wild, and he’s fidgeting up a storm. Hen shoves Chim, says something, and it seems to calm Buck down just a touch. 

“I’m sure your captain can fill you in on the rest,” the firefighter says. 

Eddie turns his attention back to the man standing in front of him and nods apologetically. “Oh, yes, sorry—I mean, thanks.”

He doesn’t hear the other man’s reply as he heads toward Buck. The smile on Buck’s lips is strained and his shoulders are stiff. Maybe it’s the way he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Maybe it’s his stance, almost defensive, as he folds in on himself. Whatever it is, it makes Eddie want to wrap his arms around Buck and never let go. 

And the urgency in Eddie to comfort Buck scares him into inaction. 

Bobby walks up to Buck and Eddie’s not sure if he’s frustrated or relieved. The only other person he’s ever felt this protective of is Chris, and that doesn’t count because Chris is his  _ son _ , and he’s biologically wired to want to care for him. Is this need to protect Buck, even though he knows Buck’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself, also biological? 

_ Stop trying to blame everything on your biology.  _ Eddie swallows and tries to ignore the little voice hissing in his head. 

He’s too far to hear what Bobby says to Buck, but Buck’s smile turns genuine, if not a little sad and self-deprecating. Eddie waits for them to finish their conversation, and that’s when he notices. 

Is Buck wearing a firefighter’s uniform? 

He squints, takes another step closer, and Bobby chooses that moment to turn and walk away, giving Eddie a clear view of his name embroidered on the front left pocket of the uniform.

A wave of possessiveness washes over Eddie and leaves him breathless. He knows this isn’t the time or place, but the idea of Buck in  _ his _ clothes,  _ his _ uniform, does things to his insides. Good things. He wants to run over and take Buck into his arms, but the look on Buck’s face when Bobby leaves stops him. 

Sadness, longing, and resignation swim across his face, turning his handsome features into something forlorn. Eddie’s chest squeezes, and he wonders if maybe teaching cooking classes isn’t really what Buck wants to do. Even if he’s phenomenal with the children. 

Eddie waits until Buck’s hung Eddie's shirt back in his locker and gone upstairs. Buck probably doesn’t want Eddie knowing he tried on his uniform, and the last thing Eddie wants is to spook and embarrass him. A couple of guys wave at him as he gets changed, then he joins the rest of the unit upstairs. 

Everyone is already seated at the table. Chim points to the only empty spot next to Buck and smiles knowingly at him. Does Chim know? Fuck. Does the whole unit know? Eddie swallows and slips into the empty chair. Buck avoids his eyes, and the urge to wrap his arms around Buck returns with a vengeance. 

“Hey,” Eddie whispers, hoping the clatter of metal serving spoons on ceramic will drown out his voice. “You all right?”

Buck ignores him as he scoops roasted root vegetables on his plate. 

“Buck—”

“I’m fine,” Buck mutters, still avoiding Eddie’s eyes, and there’s a tremor in his hand when he passes the dish across the table to Hen. 

Up close, Eddie notices the sheen of sweat on Buck’s brow. His nostrils flare, just slightly, with each breath, and there’s still a trace of wildness in his eyes that Eddie knows all too well. Adrenaline is a double-edged sword, and the come-down from an adrenaline rush like the one Buck probably just experienced is a hundred times worse for Submissives. 

Eddie lays a hand on Buck’s knee under the table and squeezes gently. “One of the firefighters from the other unit told me what happened.”

Buck’s eyes flick down, then up to meet Eddie’s gaze, and is that fear clouding those beautiful blues? “Shit. I’m sorr—”

“Why are you apologizing? You saved that man’s life.” Eddie squeezes Buck’s knee a little harder, hoping that this small contact is enough to convey how proud he is of Buck. “If it weren’t for you, he’d probably be dead.”

Buck stares at him for a long moment then shrugs and looks away. “It’s no big deal.”

“Bullshit.” Buck’s eyes shoot back to meet Eddie’s. “Most people would have freaked out in that situation. You didn’t, and that man’s alive because of you.”

The corners of Buck’s lips twitch into a ghost of a smile, and his expression softens when he says, “Thanks.”

His eyes are still a little unfocused. As much as Eddie knows Bobby and Athena will look after Buck, something in Eddie’s chest won’t settle. “Why don’t you come over after my shift tomorrow?” The words pop out before he has time to really think them over, but he doesn’t regret them. 

Buck blinks at him, and he focuses on Eddie as if seeing him for the first time tonight. “Uh…”

“Are you working tomorrow?” Buck shakes his head. “Then please, come over. I need—” Eddie huffs out a sigh and breathes in deeply. “I need to know you’re okay.” 

“I’m fine, really,” Buck says, but the waver in his voice convinces Eddie otherwise. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You won’t be,” Eddie reassures, “and I’m sure Chris would love to see you.” 

Something shifts in Buck at the mention of Chris’ name. His shoulders slump forward and his ramrod-straight back loses its tension. “If, and only if you’re down for company after a twelve-hour graveyard.”

Eddie’s chest loosens, and he breathes out a happy sigh. “Hundred percent.”

“All right, if you lovebirds are done—” Chim’s voice cuts through the bubble surrounding Buck and Eddie. “Can one of you pass the damn roast? This half of the table is wasting away here.”

Heat unlike fire spreads across Eddie’s cheeks and down the collar of his shirt. His head whips from Chim to Bobby to Buck and swelling panic threatens to choke him. “We’re not—I mean—this isn’t—we’re just—”

Bobby gives him a stern look but there’s mirth dancing in his eyes. “Let’s just get through dinner before another call comes in, shall we?” he says with an amused sigh. 

Eddie passes the plate of carved roast to Chim and sends with it as much menace as he can through his glare. He steals a glance at Buck and finds him hiding his smile behind his cup. A genuine smile that lights up his eyes and colours his cheeks a pretty shade of pink. Panic makes way for something fuzzy, and it settles around Eddie like a warm blanket from the dryer. This isn’t how he imagined informing his boss that he’s dating his son, but he’s glad the cat’s out of the bag now. Not that they were hiding their relationship or anything. 

Their relationship. 

Eddie puts down his knife, reaches under the table, and squeezes Buck’s thigh. A warm hand covers his, and it takes every ounce of Eddie's willpower to not lean over and kiss Buck’s cheek. Just because everyone seems to accept this thing between him and Buck doesn’t mean he should rub it in everyone’s face. 

The rest of dinner goes by without incident. No calls, no emergencies, just Buck next to Eddie as they finish eating and clear away the dishes and load the dishwasher together. Everyone else seems to have miraculously found something else to do, leaving them alone in the kitchen, and Eddie’s not sure if he’s even more embarrassed or if he wants to kiss his co-workers.

The shift changes and Buck goes home with Bobby. Eddie isn’t sure how he’s going to make it through his shift without losing his mind knowing Buck is coming over the next day, but the city of Los Angeles keeps him busy. Nothing major, nothing catastrophic, but it’s enough to keep him unaware of the time until he sees the morning crew getting changed in their fishbowl of a locker room.

Eddie rushes home and finds Carla and Chris at the table eating pancakes with fresh berries. He doesn’t have fresh berries. 

“Did you bring berries, Carla?” he asks, setting his keys on the kitchen counter and coming around to plant a kiss on Chris’ head. 

“Nope, Buck came by and made us breakfast,” Carla says with a fond smile. “He brought the berries.” 

Eddie pauses and blinks. He checks the time. “It’s not even eight yet.”

“What can I say?” Carla shrugs and stuffs the last forkful of pancakes in her mouth. “He’s a keeper, that one.” She winks, and Eddie’s face flames. Does everyone know? 

“Daddy,” Chris pipes up, saving Eddie from having to answer Carla. “Buck said to tell you to take a nap.”

“Oh?”

“He said he’ll come by around lunch time,” Chris says, his big eyes glittering with excitement. “Then he said he’ll come get me from school if it’s okay with you. Is it okay if Buck picks me up from school today?”

Eddie’s lips twitch despite his efforts to keep a straight face. He taps his chin and makes a show of really pondering this over. “Yeah, I guess he can come pick you up with me.”

Chris whoops and waves his fork around like a flag. He finishes the last of his pancakes and ferries his plate over to the sink where Carla is rinsing hers. 

“Thanks again for doing these overnights, Carla,” Eddie says when Chris disappears down the hall to his room, no doubt grabbing his backpack. 

“Oh, honey.” Carla waves a hand at him in exasperation. “You’re paying for my trip to Mexico so don’t sweat it. Besides, Chris is such an easy kid to take care of I almost feel bad taking your money.” 

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head. “Please don’t ever feel bad. You’re a god-send.” 

“Damn right I am,” she replies without missing a beat. “I better get going. You take care of yourself. And that boy of yours.”

“Don’t let Chris hear you say that.”

Carla rolls her eyes. “Not your  _ son _ . The  _ other _ boy.” 

Before Eddie can come up with a good response, Carla’s gone in a whirl of cream cardigans and knowing looks. Eddie drops Chris off at school, kisses him goodbye, then heads straight home. Despite his excitement to see Buck—and he is really, really excited—graveyard shifts always hit him the hardest. By the time he sets an alarm, strips down to his boxer briefs, and crawls into bed, his eyes barely stay open long enough for him to send Buck a quick text. 

_ Spare key’s under the third flower pot from the house. Please let yourself in if I don’t hear the doorbell. _

He doesn’t see Buck’s response. 

===

Eddie wakes to the distinctive aroma of bacon. The smell of frying fat and smoke rouses his stomach and earns him a swift kick from the inside, reminding him that he hasn’t eaten anything since Sunday night roast. 

Buck’s Sunday night roast.

Buck.

Eddie’s eyes snap open and he practically falls out of bed, his limbs clumsy and heavy with sleep. The sound of something upbeat drifts from downstairs along with other delicious smells that make his stomach squeeze with hunger. The radio clock—yes, he still has one of these—on his nightstand reads one fifty-seven PM. Eddie curses as he yanks on some sweats and a t-shirt then runs downstairs and into the kitchen. 

Buck, sizzling pan in one hand and spatula in the other, turns to stare at him. “Oh, hey.”

“Uh, hey,” Eddie replies dumbly. “I’m so sorry. I totally slept through my alarm and didn’t hear you ring the doorbell. Hope you didn’t wait long?”

“It’s no big. I got here not long ago.” Buck places the pan on a heat mat and wipes his hands on the dish towel. “And I didn’t ring the doorbell. Figured you could use the extra shut-eye.” He looks Eddie from head to toe and back up again and smirks. “Guess I wasn’t wrong.”

Eddie tries for grumpy, but his traitorous lips pull into a wide smile. “Graveyards aren’t my favourite.” 

“Don’t doubt it. Anyway, hope you’re hungry.”

Eddie’s stomach chooses this exact moment to growl, and they both melt into a fit of laughter. “That answers your question, I guess?” 

Buck rolls his eyes then turns back to the pan. He places the bacon on a plate lined with paper towel, then pulls a tray from the oven. Eddie looks at the buttery yellow rounds and cocks an eyebrow at Buck. 

“Are those eggs?” 

“Yup.” Buck slices two bagels in half and pops one into the toaster. He grabs freshly washed lettuce from a bowl in the sink, shakes off any excess water, and places them next to a neat row of tomatoes slices on the cutting board. “I figured we have some BELTs for lunch, since this is your first meal of the day and all.”

“BELT?” 

“Bacon, egg, lettuce, tomato.”

“Huh.” Eddie picks up a fluffy circle of egg and sniffs it. “How’d you make them so perfectly round?”

“It’s called a mould, Eddie.” Buck smacks Eddie’s hand, making him drop the egg back on the baking sheet. 

“I don’t have a mould.” Eddie rubs the back of his hand and growls.

“I know. I brought mine.” Buck smirks. “You really don’t cook much, huh?”

“Bite me.”

Buck stares at him, and the look in his eyes sends a thrill down Eddie’s spine. “Don’t tempt me, Diaz.”

Eddie wants to do just that. Tempt Buck out of his clothes and into his bed. Tempt Buck into so much sin there’s no amount of holy water to wash it away. But Eddie’s stomach has other ideas as it gurgles again, long and loud and insistent. 

Buck laughs, and Eddie can’t even feel embarrassed because the light spilling through the kitchen window hits Buck just right and he’s radiant. Absolutely breathtaking as the corners of his eyes crinkle and his face is lit by buttery sunbeams as much as the mirth in his expression. His eyes are sparkling, and the sun teases out the flecks of gold hidden in the depth of all that blue. 

Eddie swallows, hunger forgotten as he watches Buck assemble their sandwiches and slice some apples to go on the side. Buck’s wearing a cream coloured t-shirt that shows off his tan, and his blue jeans, just like all his other jeans, hug his ass like a second skin. Does this guy not own any baggy jeans, or does he just dress like this when he knows he’ll be seeing Eddie? 

“Let’s eat before your stomach Venoms your liver or some shit,” Buck says and carries their sandwiches on two plates to the dinner table. 

“Huh?” Eddie blinks and rips his gaze from Buck’s ass. 

“You know? Venom? Big black alien symbiote who ate his host’s liver?” Buck turns and cocks an eyebrow at Eddie. “Don’t tell me you’ve never read the comics? Seen the movie?”

Eddie shakes his head and takes a seat at the table. Buck pushes a plate in front of him then picks up his own sandwich and takes a huge bite. Eddie mimics Buck’s bite and can’t help the moan escaping around his mouthful of food. It’s so, so good. The bagel is perfectly toasted, the egg fluffy, and the bacon has just the right amount of chew. The lettuce is crisp and the tartness of the tomato cuts through the richness. Eddie swallows and takes another huge bite. He makes short work of the bagel and apple slices and doesn’t notice Buck watching him until he’s licking grease from his fingers. 

Buck’s only half way through his bagel, and he grins as he places his untouched half on Eddie’s plate. “Hungry?”

Eddie looks from the half sandwich to Buck. The truth is, the sandwich is so good he’d eat Buck’s half in a heartbeat, but that means Buck will only have had half a sandwich. “You sure?” he asks, feeling a little dubious but also a little selfish.

“Yeah.” Buck nods and bites into an apple slice. “I ate some bacon while cooking, and you look like you need it more than I do.” 

Eddie doesn’t need any more urging and devours the sandwich with gusto. Buck must be magical; how else does he make something as simple as an egg bagel taste so amazing? Eddie picks the crumbs from the plate and licks them from his finger, then looks up to find Buck’s eyes trained on him. They’re muted, lacking their usual sparkle, and Eddie swallows. 

Buck is looking at him with a focus that’s somewhat unnerving. His shoulders are tense, and he has this uneasy energy about him now that he’s not busy making lunch. It’s as if he’s expecting Eddie to do or say something that may hurt him any moment so he’s prepared, has his guard up, and it hurts Eddie’s heart. Eddie frowns, but before he can say anything, the look passes and Buck’s back to his usual self, albeit muted. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks anyway. 

Buck nods, and his smile brings a flicker of spark back in his eyes. “Yeah, a little tired I think.” He gathers the plates and takes them to the sink, then turns around and looks at the clock on the microwave. “Shit, we gotta go get Chris from school.”

Eddie wants to dig a little deeper. He’s seen that haunted look in Buck’s eyes before. Back on the battlefield when doubt worms its way into a soldier’s head and takes root, turning courage into fear, confidence into uncertainty. Buck is obviously not fine, but he’s also right. They need to pick up Chris from school, and with Chris here, Buck knows Eddie can’t ask any hard questions. 

Damn sneaky bastard. 

They pile into Eddie’s truck. It’s a short, ten-minute drive, but it may as well have been a life time before Eddie parks the truck on the side of the road across from the school. Buck is quiet, and the silence surrounding him is prickly and defensive. Eddie turns to Buck and lays a hand on his knee. Buck doesn’t visibly flinch but his leg twitches, and he opens the passenger side door quickly, hopping out of the truck landing lightly on his feet. 

The bell rings, loud and shrill, and the school erupts with a cacophony of voices. Eddie sighs and gets out, and they walk to the pick up area together to wait for Chris. Chris emerges from the throng of children with a radiant smile on his face like he does every day. Eddie looks to Buck, whose smile is genuine and larger than life when Chris throws himself into Buck’s arms for a big hug. Something eases in Eddie’s chest. 

The drive home is easier with Chris chattering about all the things he did at school today. Buck responds in kind as he asks all the right questions. The happiness rolling off Buck is palpable, and it amazes Eddie just how much Buck relaxes around Chris. His smile is easier, his demeanour open, and he’s got this vulnerable excitement about him like he’s a kid again. 

It warms Eddie’s heart to see Buck like this. That warmth doubles when he sees just how much Chris loves having Buck around. They pull into the driveway, and Buck holds Chris’ backpack and helps him out of the truck. 

“How much homework do you have, bud?” Buck asks.

“Not too much today. Just some spelling.”

“Cool. You need help with that?”

“No. Can you make me a snack, Buck?”

“Of course. What do you want?”

Eddie watches as his two favourite people amble toward the front door and his chest swells. Buck bends down at the third flower pot and pulls out the spare key. He gives Eddie a cheeky grin over his shoulder, then unlocks the door and slips the key back before following Chris into the house. Eddie shakes his head and smiles to himself. 

The house looks different. The walls are still yellow, but they’re less foreign, less daunting. Less new. Instead, they emanate this shimmering energy that’s painfully familiar. 

Home. 

This house finally feels like home. 

Eddie swallows hard and takes a deep breath. His eyes sting, and he rubs the back of his hand across them before jogging to catch up. Chris and Buck are in the kitchen already. Chris is seated at the dinner table, homework spread out, and Buck brings him a bagel with cream cheese and strawberry slices on a plate. 

The domesticity of if all hits Eddie in the sternum, and he inhales sharply as the gaping hole in his chest closes a little. This is what he’s been missing since Shannon died, what he so desperately wanted to give to Chris but couldn’t because he doesn’t even know how to begin bridging the gap left by her. And then there’s Buck, who steps into their lives so easily and fills the cracks until everything feels whole again. Feels right. 

Buck’s still tight around the shoulders, but his eyes aren’t so haunted when he talks to Chris. Chris finishes his snack and starts on his homework, and Buck stares at him fondly for a few more heartbeats before taking a seat beside him and pulling out his phone. Eddie joins them and sits down across from Buck. The incident from yesterday may have left Buck exhausted, but Eddie’s not sure if that’s what’s got him so wound up. However, if Buck’s not ready to talk, then all Eddie can do is be there for him as a distraction or whatever else Buck needs. 

“Do you need to be anywhere for the rest of the afternoon?” Eddie asks. 

Buck shakes his head. “Nope.” He pops the p and smiles.

“Fantastic. Want to help me and Chris in the garden after he finishes his homework?” 

Buck cocks an eyebrow at Eddie. “You garden?”

“Heck no.” Eddie snorts. “But the weeds are getting a bit out of hand, and I did promise Chris we’d spend the afternoon outside if the weather is nice. And the weather is always nice in Santa Monica.”

Chris looks from Eddie to Buck with big eyes. “Please, Buck?”

Buck chuckles and ruffles Chris’ hair. “I can never say no to you.”

Chris’ grin widens. He fixes his mussed up hair then hunches back over his homework. For a while, the only sound in the kitchen is the scratch of pencil on paper and the tick-tock of the clock hanging high above the sink. When Chris finishes his homework, the three of them shrug on light jackets and head into the weed-infested backyard. 

“Holy shi-I mean, Christ,” Buck huffs as he scans the yard. 

The yard isn’t gigantic, but the previous owner obviously loved gardening. Eddie can’t even remember the name of the plants lining the perimeter of the fence. To the right of the yard is a large fruit tree—plum, if he remembers correctly—and across from the plum tree is a cherry tree. When they moved in, they’d missed harvest time, but the ground was littered with unpicked fruit. Eddie is both excited for and dreading this year’s harvest season when he’ll need to figure out what to do with all this fruit. 

When they moved in, the backyard was well-kept and gorgeous. Now, the only space that’s not overrun with weeds is the small patch of lawn right next to the back deck. 

Eddie’s face flames, but he ignores it and turns his nose up indignantly. “Well, chop chop. The weeds won’t pull themselves.”

Eddie and Buck dig out the weeds while Chris picks them up and throws them into a large bin. It’s slow going, and Eddie makes a mental note to buy some stools for next time when his lower back protests louder and louder with each passing minute. Buck throws himself into the mind-numbing work. They don’t talk much, except to exchange a word here and there about worms and “wait that’s a flower, not a weed” when Chris accidentally pulls on the wrong thing. 

The physical nature of weeding seems to help Buck’s mood. His expression shifts from pensive to something softer despite the crease between his brows as he concentrates on digging. By the time they pack up the two giant bins of weeds, the tightness around the corners of his eyes are replaced by crinkles as he smiles at the fruit of their hard work. 

“Damn, Eds, you weren’t kidding about the weeds being out of control,” he says, wiping a hand across his brow and leaving a trail of dirt behind. 

The nickname sits warm in Eddie’s gut. “Yeah, sorry. Shannon did all the gardening back then. I had no idea how quickly they grew.”

Buck gives him an exasperated look. “Have you not heard of the saying ‘grow like a weed’?” 

Eddie punches Buck in the shoulder and rolls his eyes. The three of them head inside. Buck sends Chris and Eddie to the bathroom to clean up while he washes up in the kitchen and starts dinner. Eddie and Chris hover as they watch Buck assess the ingredients in the fridge. 

Buck whips up a simple meal of baked chicken and pasta in the amount of time it would have taken Eddie to flounder in the kitchen before ordering a pizza. 

They eat with easy banter, and after cleanup and an episode of cartoons, Buck helps Eddie give Chris a bath then tuck him into bed. Chris asks Buck to read him his bedtime story, and Eddie’s not sure how he feels about being replaced. It’s a little bittersweet, but mostly he’s just content. 

Eddie waits for Buck on the couch downstairs, and when he hears Buck’s soft footsteps come down the stairs, he can’t help but smile as his pulse quickens. 

“Hey,” Buck says as he slumps in the couch next to Eddie. 

“He’s out?”

“Like a light.” Buck grins that cocky grin of his. 

“What do you wanna do now?” Eddie asks. 

Buck’s eyes darken, and his tongue flicks against his bottom lip before he says, “Uh, I’m easy. What do you wanna do?”

Eddie knows what he  _ wants _ , but he didn’t ask Buck over so they can do what  _ he _ wants to do. Eddie just wants to make sure Buck’s not alone after what happened yesterday. Judging by the muted way he was all afternoon, Eddie’s happy he and Chris were able to provide even a little comfort and distraction. 

Eddie picks up the remote and turns on the TV. “How about some Netflix?”

“Netflix and chill?” Buck says cheekily and waggles his eyebrows so they look like dancing caterpillars. 

Eddie’s cheeks heat and his cock twitches with interest. “If that’s what you’d like.” 

Buck laughs and shakes his head. “Netflix is fine.” 

Eddie ignores the tiny pang of disappointment, puts on a random documentary about deep-sea fish, and pats the cushion next to him on the couch. Buck slides into the space and plasters his body against Eddie’s. The TV flickers green and blue as the narrator starts his introduction about the marvels of the ocean, but Eddie’s not paying attention to the screen. He looks at Buck, tucked into his side, and studies the fan of his thick lashes, his proud nose, his full lips, and Eddie’s heart beats up a storm inside his ribcage. 

Buck’s body is warm and solid, one arm tucked behind Eddie’s back, and his long, long legs take up the rest of the couch with his feet dangling off the end. Occasionally he glances up at Eddie, and when their eyes meet each time, his eyes burn a little brighter until raw desire turns in his eyes into blue fire. Buck reaches up a hand and touches Eddie’s jaw with gentle fingers, and Eddie grasps his hand and threads their fingers together. 

The air charges between them, and suddenly it’s a little harder to breathe. Eddie brings Buck’s hand to his lips and kisses each knuckle, and Buck’s eyes burn so brightly it’s like they’re glowing. Something colourful comes on the TV screen, and a kaleidoscope of colours shimmer across Buck’s skin. 

Christ, he’s so gorgeous. 

Buck leans up, and Eddie moves as if pulled down by invisible threads. His gaze flicks from Buck’s eyes to his lips, his full, pink lips that are forever begging to be kissed, and feels himself drawn to them. The ghost of Buck’s taste skitters across Eddie’s tongue, and the need to savour his mouth again threatens to overwhelm him. 

Eddie closes the distance between them, and when his lips touch Buck’s, something unlike electricity zaps through him. Buck moans, his eyes fluttering shut, and that’s the last thing Eddie sees before his own eyes close as he sinks into the kiss. Soft lips, eager tongue, day-old stubble, so many sensations and the  _ taste _ . So fresh and intoxicating Eddie wants to be drunk on this flavour forever. Wants to lose himself in the heat of Buck’s mouth and never be found again. 

Buck pulls back with a groan, and Eddie frowns at the loss of Buck’s lips. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” 

Guilt-ridden eyes frown up at him, and Buck swallows thickly before looking away. “I—I need to tell you something.” He sits up and worries at his bottom lip, his eyes darting to Eddie then swiftly looking away as if he’s embarrassed. 

“What is it?” Eddie takes Buck’s hands in his and squeezes. 

Buck takes a deep breath, then another, and when Eddie thinks Buck’s not going to tell him, he blurts, “I wore your uniform yesterday.”

“Huh?”

“When—when the guy that had the heart attack came in, I was”—he takes another shuddering breath—“I tried on your uniform.”

“Okay?” Eddie says and tries not to smile. “Is that all you want to tell me?”

Buck frowns. “You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” Eddie squeezes Buck’s hand again. “I…I also have something I want to tell you.” Buck’s eyes narrow and shifts on the couch as if getting ready to bolt. Eddie grips his hands tighter. “I saw you in my uniform—”

“Oh my fucking god.” 

“—and not gonna lie, it was kinda hot.” Now it’s Eddie’s turn to blush as heat spreads from beneath his collar up to his cheeks. 

“Wait what?” Buck’s eyes practically bug out of his head. 

Eddie shrugs and tries for nonchalant and fails miserably. “Yeah, I don’t know. Something about seeing you in my clothes…I felt kinda possessive in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.”

Buck stares at him with wide eyes and so many emotions flitter across them. Eddie can’t believe he just admitted to Buck that he likes seeing him in his clothes, and he hopes like hell Buck doesn't run screaming from the possessive talk. Buck’s back is stiff as he stares at Eddie, his intense gaze making Eddie squirm. When Eddie finally can’t take the scrutiny anymore and opens his mouth, Buck’s lips crash into his. 

The kiss is heated, desperate, and Buck is demanding in a way Eddie’s never experienced from him before. His tongue presses into Eddie’s mouth, licking and probing and so damn possessive it makes Eddie’s breath catch. He wants to kiss back, to give as good as he gets, but he’s lost in the tempest of Buck’s passion. Dragged around like a ship in the raging sea, and he’s happy to let Buck lead. Happy to have this version of Buck finally break free. 

Teeth worry at his bottom lip, and Buck eases off with a chuckled sigh. When Eddie finally peels his eyes open, Buck’s looking at him with liquid fire in his eyes. “You knew? And you liked it?”

Eddie chuckles and runs a thumb across Buck’s bottom lip. “Fucking loved it. But don’t be getting any ideas about stealing my clothes. I only have, like, three sweatshirts.” 

Buck rolls his eyes, and it warms Eddie to see the tension melt from the corners of his mouth and eyes. “Um, well, there’s one  _ more _ thing I need to tell you…” Eddie cocks an eyebrow at Buck and waits. “I kinda sorta had to pretend to be you to the other team’s captain because I didn’t want to explain why I was wearing your uniform.” His blush spreads all the way down his shirt collar, and he holds his breath as he looks at Eddie with apologetic eyes. There’s also a trace of fear in the depth of those pretty blues, as if he’s afraid Eddie may ask just why he  _ was _ wearing Eddie’s uniform. 

Eddie’s not blind. He can guess why Buck was trying it on. What he doesn't understand is why Buck doesn’t just apply to become a firefighter. He’s surrounded by people who would help him. Hell, Eddie would be the first in line. But that’s another question for another day. 

“Well, I hope you didn’t get me into trouble,” Eddie says and punches Buck’s shoulder playfully. 

Buck huffs in mock indignation. “I’ll have you know he tried to recruit me. So, you’re welcome.”

“Did he now?” Eddie mocks, but his chest twinges at the flash of pain in Buck’s eye that Buck thinks he hid. It’s obvious firefighting is what Buck wants, and it confuses and frustrates Eddie that for whatever reason, Buck doesn’t think he should go for it. 

Buck nods, then grabs a cushion and drops it on the floor next to Eddie’s feet. Eddie’s heart rate quickens. “Can we…can I stay here for a while?” Buck asks as he slides to the floor and tucks his legs under his butt. 

Eddie’s fingers card through Buck’s hair, and the faint buzz under his skin calms and fades. “You can stay there for as long as you want.” He drags his nails across Buck’s scalp and grins when Buck purrs a soft sigh. 

===

The call comes in at the end of his shift. Eddie shrugs into his gear and slaps his helmet on his head as he follows Chim and Cap to the truck. Fire at a corner store. Not great but nothing they haven’t seen before, and the store will be empty at this hour of the night unless it’s a twenty-four hour joint. Even then, there’s usually only one guy behind the register. 

Eddie has no aversions to people, but people tend to panic when there’s fire involved, and panicked people are no fun to deal with. 

The smoke comes into view first, followed by the orange tinged sky. The truck pulls to a stop in front of the convenience store and Eddie hops out after Chim. Heat from the flames hits him full blast. No matter how many calls he answers, no matter how many burning buildings he runs into, the first blast of intense heat still shocks his breath away. 

Cap yells out his orders, and Eddie complies by grabbing the hose and running toward the front of the store and holds it steady while someone turns on the water. 

By the time the stream of water hits the flames, the fire has swallowed most of the storefront. Sadness sits heavy in Eddie’s gut. Whoever owns this place is going to have a lot of pieces to pick up once they put out the fire, and the insurance company will be sure to examine each piece under a microscope before they decide whether to pay or not. 

Holding the hose and spraying water isn’t the most exciting job and Eddie finds his mind wandering. As is his habit these days, his thoughts always end up on a certain blue-eyed, long-legged man with deep dimples and a dazzling smile. 

Buck left his place last night with jello knees and a happy, dopey smile. It still amazes Eddie how easy it is to have Buck melt under his touch. They watched the rest of the deep-sea documentary with Buck kneeling by Eddie’s feet, and despite the ever present hum of desire thrumming through him whenever Buck’s close, just having his hand in Buck’s hair and Buck’s body lax against his leg was enough to take Eddie to that soft, soaring place. 

Ever since he was old enough to have sexual urges, Eddie has always needed sexual release to take him into domspace. Back in the army, before he met Shannon, he was in a constant state of agitation. Release was hard to find when he shared his living space with up to twenty men sometimes, and it was hard to find someone in the Army who enjoyed being dominated by someone who was “too pretty to be a dom.” 

When he met Shannon while on leave, it was like colour bled into his dom world for the first time. Even after the obvious failings in their marriage, Eddie still hung onto that feeling of seeing colour for the first time. Still clung to something that had long faded. And then she was gone, ripped from their lives by a drunk driver who also died in the crash. It used to make Eddie so angry that he couldn’t look the man in the eye and blame him for everything that had gone wrong in his life. Blame him for costing him a chance to win back his soon-to-be ex-wife.

Now, looking back with fresh eyes, it was already over between him and Shannon even before the accident. He grieved her like he grieved a best friend. He still loved her, but that love had shifted from splashes of colour to a sepia photograph, warm but faded. He grieved for the idea of what they had been, and it has taken him nearly a year to admit that to himself. 

If Shannon was a bleed of colour, then Buck is an explosion of vibrant blues and greens and yellows and purples that’s got Eddie’s head swimming and his heart pounding. Buck’s smile is like sunlight after a storm, his touch warm like a thick blanket in the middle of winter. Buck drives Eddie crazy with want, yet whenever they’re together, all Eddie wants to do is lavish and cherish him with strokes to his hair and soft kisses to his cheek. Buck makes him want to do everything right. To take his time and savour the moment instead of devouring with destructive need like he’s done his whole life. 

Eddie shifts the hose to tackle a new section of flames when a voice drags him from his musings. His breath hitches, and he cocks his head to the side as if that’ll help him hear better. 

“Help, please,” the voice calls, weak and choked. 

Eddie’s head snaps up and his stomach drops. A man waves sluggishly from an upstairs window. Thick smoke rolls out from behind him, and he looks like he’s about to pass out. How did they miss the residential floor above the store? 

The ladder is still extending when Eddie grabs onto the first rung and starts to climb. The fire’s burning too hot for him to run into the building, and the window is the fastest way to get the guy out before the whole place collapses. His arms and legs burn as he scales the ladder as quickly as his muscles allow, but when he gets to the window, the man shrinks from him.

“I can’t. It’s too high,” he cries while casting wild eyes behind him. The flames haven’t reached the second floor yet, but the smoke is so thick Eddie can’t see through it. What’s in the store that could be giving off so much smoke?

“Sir,” Eddie shouts over the roar of the flames and water. “Sir, I need you to trust me. The building is going to collapse any moment. All you gotta do is swing one leg out then the other and I’ve got you.”

The man stares at the ladder with dubious eyes. Sweat pours down his face, and he wipes a hand across his brows as he looks behind him then at the ladder once more. He takes a deep breath, then swings one leg out, straddling the building wall. Eddie reaches for his hand, but before he can grab on, the man cries out and withdraws his leg. 

“I can’t. I’m afraid of heights. Please, please help me,” he pleads, his knuckles white as he clutches at the wall. 

Flames flicker in the thick smoke, tinting everything with an ominous orange glow, and Eddie curses. If the flames are moving higher, then they may only have a few minutes before this side of the building collapses. It’s risky, but there’s no other choice. He motions for the ladder to extend a little more, and when it sticks through the window, he climbs into the burning building beside the trembling man. 

“Hey, hey, it’ll be okay. My name’s Eddie. What’s yours?” Eddie asks. 

The man stares at him with wild eyes, then swallows before answering, “Johnny. My name’s Johnny.”

“Okay, Johnny, I’m not going to let anything happen to you, I swear,” Eddie says as calmly as he can with a fire on their asses. “I just need you to take a hold of the ladder, and I’ll be right behind you, then my colleague will power us to safety. You won’t even need to look down.”

Fearful eyes dart between Eddie and the ladder, then Johnny nods once and reaches for the top rung. The next few minutes feel like an eternity as he crawls on top of the ladder with trembling arms and legs. Once secure, Eddie climbs on behind him and radios Cap to lower them. 

The ladder shudders and jerks, and Johnny cries out as he clings to the rungs. They move at a snail’s pace away from the inferno. It would be much faster and safer if they climb down, but judging by Johnny’s sheet-white face, that’s not going to happen. Eddie sighs and hangs on for the ride. 

Maybe it’s his years of being in situations where his instincts kick in before he can process the situation, or maybe it’s the faint smell of gas his nose detects, or maybe it’s just a gut feeling he can’t quite explain, but something clicks in Eddie and he grips the ladder a little tighter. 

Then the side of the building explodes. 

The ladder shudders and bounces with the shockwave. Johnny screams, and his foot slips as the bounce tosses him over the side of the ladder. He grabs on with one hand, his other arm and legs flailing like an insect over a flame. Eddie curses, his ears still ringing from the blast, and tries to reach for Johnny’s hand, but he’s too far. With one last betrayed and terrified look, Johnny’s hand slips from the ladder. 

It’s not a fatal fall, but the thud of his body hitting the ground sends a sick jolt through Eddie. Hen and Chim rush to him with a spinal board and neck brace, and they usher him off in the ambulance in the time it takes Eddie to climb down the ladder. Debris and broken glass crunch beneath his boots as he stumbles back to the truck and picks up another hose. At this point, they can only try to contain the fire as it burns itself out. 

Something about the heat of the flames and the oily smoke doesn’t feel right, but Eddie’s too distracted to piece it together. He let someone fall. Someone he’s supposed to protect. Someone he  _ promised _ he’d protect. The look on Johnny’s face as he fell will haunt Eddie for a long time, and he tries to shut out Johnny’s terrified scream from his mind. 

Eddie’s not good at many things, but he’s always been great at his job. 

Until he let a man fall. 

With the aid of time, the fire exhausts itself eventually, and the team leaves the rest of the wreckage for the LAPD to handle. They drive back to the firehouse in silence and Eddie moves through clean up on autopilot. He smells like acrid smoke, but he forgoes the shower so he can get home, crawl into bed, and sleep the rest of the night away so he can pretend he didn’t just fuck up so majorly someone almost died. 

Carla’s watching TV when Eddie trudges through the front door. She takes one look at him and the smile on her lips dies. 

“Sweetheart, you okay?” 

Eddie forces his lips into a smile and nods. “Yeah, rough day at work is all.” 

“Uh huh, I can see that.” She gives him a once over and a frown pulls her brows together. “You want me to stay a little longer so you can get cleaned up?”

“No, you’re already doing me a huge favour doing these late night shifts,” Eddie says. “I should let you get home to your cats.”

Carla rolls her eyes and grabs her purse from the kitchen counter. “They’ve got an automatic feeder for a reason. And please, it’s really not a big deal. You sure you’re okay?” She touches his arm, and Eddie almost groans from this tiny gesture. 

“I’m fine. I’ll take a shower and go straight to bed.”

She gives him one last look, then relents. “Fine. But if you need anything, you got my number.”

“What would I do without you?”

Carla doesn’t answer, just gets on her tippy toes and gives him a peck on the cheek before opening the front door. “You take care, sweetie.”

Eddie’s smile falls as soon as the door clicks shut, and the waves of barely contained guilt crash into him. He slides down the door and leans his head against the solid wood, hoping and failing to find strength from its sturdy form. 

How could he have let Johnny fall? He should have held onto him or bullied him into climbing down so they wouldn’t have been two storeys in the air when the building exploded. He could have done so many things differently that wouldn’t have resulted in Johnny falling two floors and nearly dying. If there’s any lasting damage, it’ll be on Eddie. What if he doesn’t make it? Fuck. 

_ Fuck. _

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and swallows a wave of nausea. He’s still on probation. Would they fire him for making such a grave mistake? He’s heard of guys being let go for much less and Eddie almost killed a man. What would he do then? Where would he take Chris? Back to Texas? Can he handle the move? Can Chris? 

The idea of leaving when he’s finally starting to feel like he belongs, rankles. And what about Buck? Can he walk away from Buck? 

A disgusted chuckle wrenches from his throat. A man may be dead or permanently damaged because of him and all he can think about is how he may lose his job? 

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He ignores it, only, it keeps buzzing. And buzzing. And buzzing. Then stops. Maybe it’s Bobby calling him to tell him he doesn’t need to come in tomorrow. Eddie chuckles, the sound dry and humourless, and yanks the phone from his pocket. If so, better to get it over with. 

The screen blinks on with Buck’s bright smile and the phone vibrates once more. Eddie sucks in a sharp breath. He hits the green button then brings the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Oh thank god,” comes Buck’s relieved voice. “You okay?”

“Wh—uh, yeah. I’m fine.” Eddie licks his lips and switches the phone from one ear to the other. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? You just had a building explode on you and you ask  _ me _ what’s wrong?” 

“Wait. How—”

“Dad told me. He just got home smelling like smoke and ash and he told us how you almost fell off the ladder,” he says, his voice growing louder with every word. 

Shit, did Bobby tell him how Eddie dropped his victim two storeys and nearly broke his neck? “Um—”

“Are you hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital? I can come over and watch Chris if you need—I dunno, are you hungry? I can make you something and bring it over. Or—”

“Buck,” Eddie cuts him off. “I almost killed him.” He didn’t mean for the words to come out, didn’t even mean to tell him, but they slipped out anyway, and Eddie feels like he’s going to faint as he waits for Buck’s reply. 

There’s a long, loaded pause. It stretches for minutes, seconds, hours, Eddie’s not sure, only that his whole body hurts and he’s so fucking tired and he’s terrified. Terrified of what Buck will say. 

“You asshole.” Buck’s voice is soft but firm. “Dad told me everything. You were just trying to help. You didn’t kill him. He’s alive, maybe a bit banged up—”

“He fell two storeys onto concrete, Buck.”

“And he would have died in that fire if you hadn’t gotten him out before the explosion.” 

Eddie blinks into the dark hallway. He…he did. He got Johnny out before the whole place blew up. 

“You saved him, Eds. Maybe not in the way you’d like, maybe you think you fucked up and maybe you did, but he’s alive because you went in there and dragged him out. Not to mention,” Buck continues, “you crawled into a building that was about to collapse. You’re a goddamn hero, Eddie.” A pause. “My goddamn hero.” 

Eddie opens his mouth to deny it. To tell Buck this is his job and his duty, but the only thing that comes out is a broken sob. 

And the dam breaks as big fat tears roll down his cheeks. 

  
  



	12. Chapter 12

Buck shifts his knees to the left and sits on his cushion instead of kneeling on it, trying to get comfortable, but it’s damn near impossible with the way Eddie’s leg twitches next to him. They’re trying to watch a movie on Netflix. Chim and Maddie insisted they watch it as they were leaving the station, but Eddie’s so agitated Buck can’t even focus on it long enough to remember the protagonist’s name.

Eddie has been like this for the past two weeks: withdrawn, uptight, skittish, and snappy even with Chris. The guilt on his face every time he raises his voice to Chris kills Buck, but he doesn’t know what he can do to help Eddie relax. They’ve tried everything, from working out at the gym to going on runs to dancing at the club to doing more gardening. 

They even tried to scene a couple times, nothing insane or elaborate, just Buck kneeling by Eddie’s side, letting Eddie rearrange him to fit his mood, or Buck letting Eddie hand feed him. Things never went beyond making out and heavy petting, even if Buck desperately wanted them to, but it’s as if Eddie’s too afraid to go beyond what they both know is safe. Too afraid to push past this invisible line in this invisible sand that’s materialized out of the convenience store accident. 

Nothing seems to be able to pull Eddie out of his funk, and while Buck doesn’t want to wield sex as some sort of weapon, he’s desperate enough to want to push for it. To take Eddie out of his head long enough for him to just fucking _relax._

Eddie’s knee jerks against Buck’s head before he catches and stills himself, but it jars Buck from his thoughts. He looks up, and Eddie’s hand comes down to knead the back of his neck in a gentle grip. Buck loves having Eddie’s hands on him, loves the contact of heat and skin, but there’s something absentminded about this touch and it fails to ground Buck. 

“Hey,” Buck says. 

“Hm?” Eddie’s fingers massage little circles into his skin and Buck bites back a moan.

“When do we go get Chris?” 

No response, and when Buck bumps Eddie’s leg to get his attention, Eddie flinches as if Buck slapped him. “Oh, um, he’s with _abuela_ tonight. Sleepover.” 

“Oh.” Buck chews on his bottom lip and studies the dust bunny on the floor.

Eddie’s place is always so clean and tidy Buck thinks the guy must be a clean freak. The fact a dust bunny even _exists_ in the Diaz household is indicative of just how out of it Eddie is. Buck glances at the TV then at Eddie’s face, where he stares at the screen with vacant eyes, his brows knitted in a permanent frown, and makes up his mind. 

“Well, if we’ve got all night,” he says and pushes to his feet, his knees popping as he straightens his legs, “then let’s go do something.”

Eddie looks up at him with a strange look in his eyes and shakes his head. “Don’t feel like it.”

Buck swallows. Usually when a Dominant says one thing, a Submissive does not question, but he’s at his wit’s end and he can’t let Eddie beat himself up over one mistake any longer. He’s not a shrink or even an expert at this sort of thing, but Buck knows that sometimes to gain one’s confidence back, one needs to be pushed beyond their comfort zone. And he’s very sure the thing he’s about to drag Eddie to is beyond both of their comfort zones.

“Please?” Buck drops to his knees and bullies his way between Eddie’s legs. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to try, but I’ve been too chicken shit to do it alone, so…” Buck takes a deep breath, glances up at Eddie through his lashes, and puckers his lips into a pout. He knows what he’s doing, knows Eddie’s a sucker for his puppy dog eyes, and he’s not above using this to his advantage tonight. 

Eddie’s tongue darts out and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, then he chuckles and grips Buck’s chin with gentle fingers. “You know I can never say no to this face.” 

Buck grins, leans forward and pecks Eddie on the lips, then pushes himself back on his feet. He extends a hand to Eddie, and something warm wraps around his heart when Eddie takes it. 

“Where are we going?”

“Secret.” Eddie rolls his eyes, but he lets himself be dragged to the front door. They put on their shoes and jackets, and Buck fishes his keys out of his pocket. “I’m driving.” 

Eddie huffs, but he doesn’t put up too much of a fight. They pile into Buck’s car, and Eddie lays a hand on Buck’s knee as they pull out onto the street. They ride in silence, with Eddie’s thumb drawing circles on the inside of Buck’s leg, and Buck has half a heart to turn them around and drag Eddie to his bedroom. But he can’t, because Eddie hasn’t invited him back to his room since New Year’s Eve. 

They pull into the parking lot at the community centre and Eddie arcs an inquisitive brow at him. “Did you forget something at work?”

Buck shakes his head and reaches for the door handle. “Nope. C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

Eddie follows him wordlessly into the centre and down the hall toward the gymnasium. Muted upbeat music drifts from the other side of the closed door, and Buck turns and flashes Eddie a shit-eating grin before pushing into the wide, open space. 

Two rows of women dressed in active wear take up the middle of the gym, squatting in unison as they follow the lady instructing in the front. The instructor, Marcia, spots Buck and waves, and a few heads follow her gaze and turn to stare at them, their movements uninterrupted. 

Buck waves back and looks at Eddie. Eddie blinks at the women currently shuffling left and right doing the grapevine, looks at Buck with this incredulous look on his face, then points a thumb in the women’s general direction and mouths, “We’re joining them?”

“Mhm,” Buck says and his grin widens when Eddie’s eyes pop. The music is a continued mix of 90’s hits on crack with a driving beat, and Buck drags Eddie to the end of the second line and starts doing leg curls, following Marcia’s lead. 

Marcia has been leading the local can-can group for over twenty years. Every week, they book the gym for three hours of practice. Only those who are interested and have a knack for choreographed dance are invited to do performances, but they welcome anyone and everyone to come in and join their open practices. 

She’s invited Buck to come to a practice many times, but Buck always refused. It’s not that he’s not curious, but the idea of following a dance and the potential effects of that on the sub side of him is terrifying. He knows if anything happened the ladies and Marcia would take good care of him, but that’s not a mental space he wants to be in surrounded by near strangers. Even if they seem like the nicest, most caring and accepting near strangers he’s ever met. 

Buck falls in line as he follows Marcia, moving from one exercise to the other, and he watches Eddie out of the corner of his eye doing the same. The aerobic warmup is upbeat and easy to follow, and the physical exertion seems to ease the tension from Eddie’s handsome face. They do rounds of grapevine, sideway shuffles, leg curls, ribcage and hip rotations, then flow into a series of hamstring and glute stretches. It makes sense considering how much kicking is involved in can-can dancing. 

Eddie is quiet as he moves through the stretches, his brows knitted in concentration when he attempts and fails to go into a split like Marcia and the ladies around them. Buck’s not faring any better on the splits front, and he’s acutely aware of how tight his jeans are when he tries. 

The group breaks up for water as they finish stretching, and Eddie shuffles closer to Buck and whispers, “What are we doing here?”

Buck tries to keep a straight face and replies, “Can-can dancing.”

Eddie’s brows join his hairline and his wide eyes dart between the ladies putting on big ruffled skirts back to Buck. “ _What_? I’ve never—how do we even—do we have to—” He jabs a finger in the direction of the duffle bag where everyone’s picking up skirts. “Buck, I don’t know if I can—”

“You don’t have to wear skirts,” Marcia’s low, smooth voice cuts through Eddie’s ramblings, “unless, of course, you want to.”

Eddie straightens and shakes his head, chuckling. “As much fun as that sounds, I think I’m okay.” Eddie stretches out a large hand and Marcia takes it in a firm handshake. “Eddie.”

“Marcia. Nice to meet you, Eddie,” Marcia says, and there’s a lilt of amusement in her silky voice. “I’m glad you finally decided to show up.” She turns to Buck and boops his nose. 

When Buck first started working at the community center, they were still in the old brick building. He got all the evening shifts and was in charge of waiting for the can-can ladies to finish so he could lock the gym. The new location has upgraded all the locks with an electronic keypad so Buck no longer has to play key-keeper. Also, he’s finally got enough seniority to not work nights anymore except for his cooking classes. 

Marcia took him under her wing since that first night he huddled in the back of the gym and watched the ladies practice with their rainbow swirls of lace and ruffles, and once a week, they chatted about everything and nothing while she waited for the dancers to show up for practice. 

She’s a handsome woman, with sharp eyes, a tall proud nose, high cheekbones, and striking streaks of grey in her hair. Buck never found out how old she is, but if he has to guess, he’d say she’s anywhere between late forties to early sixties. Despite that, she’s as limber as they come and can drop into a split at the drop of a dime. 

Marcia is like the mischievous aunt Buck never had. She tells him inappropriate jokes and they check out guys grunting in the gym together. She was the one who convinced Buck to pitch his cooking class to the center after he told her how he wished his parents had taught him how to cook like Bobby did. 

After his parents died, good parental figures became scarce in his life until he met Bobby and Athena, and then Marcia, and Buck is forever grateful to them all. 

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” Buck rubs the tip of his nose and sticks out his tongue at her. She smirks. 

“Can guys even do the can-can?” Eddie asks, dubious even as he’s trying not to sound offensive. 

“For a guy who likes to dance, you’re surprisingly uneducated,” Buck mocks. “Of course, men can can-can.” Marcia snorts at his choice of words.

“Then why haven’t you done it already?” Eddie jabs him in the ribs with his elbow. 

Buck opens his mouth and pauses. Marcia knows he’s a sub and he’s not ashamed of being a Submissive, but it’s not something he wants to disclose to the rest of the class. Since they hardly ever get men coming to practice, there are quite a few ladies listening to them even if they’re pretending to not pay attention. Buck’s been taken advantage of way too many times due to his orientation, and he’s not too stupid to learn from his mistakes. 

She looks between them and something knowing flashes in her honey brown eyes. “I’ll let the ladies know we’ve got two gentlemen joining us today. Maybe you two would like to do some lifts. I’ll leave you to decide. We start in ten.” She flashes Buck a grin and moves away so gracefully Buck wonders if she’s actually floating. 

Once she’s out of earshot, Buck turns back to Eddie and finds him looking at him with apologetic eyes. “Sorry, I should have guessed.”

Buck shakes his head. “No, and it’s not your job to guess.”

“It sort of is, though, isn’t it?

“Not when it comes to reading my mind.” Buck takes Eddie’s hand and squeezes. “I just…I don’t like explaining to people how dancing can make me feel…vulnerable.”

Eddie’s expression changes into something soft as he stares at Buck in awe. “But you let me lead you to the dance floor that night at the club.”

“I guess I really liked you.” 

“Liked?” Eddie’s brows knit into a frown. 

“Like. Still like.” Buck rolls his eyes and tugs at Eddie’s hand. “C’mon. I’ve never done this before either. We should definitely go talk to Marcia before we begin.” 

Buck has watched the ladies practice many times when they were in the old community center, but he never paid much attention to the choreography or music. He was there to kill time until it was time to lockup and go home, and back then dancing wasn’t even something that was on his radar. It wasn’t until later, when he was old enough to go clubbing, that he realized how easily he lost himself when he danced.

Now that he’s front and center in a lineup of six other women and Eddie, it all feels very overwhelming. There’s the music, loud and rambunctious, and the skirts are colourful and full and everywhere. The choreography isn’t complicated, but it’s surprisingly physically demanding and before long, he’s worked up a sweat and _seriously_ regretting his jeans. 

Maybe it’s his Submissive nature, or maybe he’s actually really good at following, but Buck picks up the steps and count and rhythm with ease. After only a couple of run-throughs, he’s got the first dance mostly learned. Marcia changes a few things to accommodate him and Eddie and adds a simple lift where Buck and Eddie each grab a partner around the waist and hoists her up while she does the splits in mid-air. Then they pick up their partners bridal style and strike a pose before putting them down on dainty feet. 

It’s not a difficult move and Buck executes it with ease. Eddie, on the other hand, struggles with not just syncing with the group and the music, but with the choreography overall. After the first couple of run-throughs, it’s apparent that Eddie, while fantastic at leading Buck through intricate steps with just the two of them, doesn’t seem to do so well in a group setting. His forehead is damp with sweat, his face in a permanent scowl as he tries to not screw up, but it seems like the harder he tries, the worse he performs. 

They run the Bonanza from the top once more, and Buck and Eddie are on opposite sides of the line. Buck feels the music pump through him, fueling his limbs with fresh energy, and now that he's not worried about kicking the wrong leg or running in the wrong direction, he starts to really enjoy himself. Opposite him in the line, Eddie is kicking his lean legs in the wrong direction, and he curses under his breath loudly enough Buck hears him over the music. Their lines peel off into opposite directions to end up in a wheel, and Eddie misses the knee kick count almost as soon as he falls in line. He's so tense Buck feels bad for the poor woman Eddie's got his arm around. He's clutching so tightly his fingers must be digging into her side. 

The ladies around him don’t seem to mind, and the woman behind Eddie murmurs instructions to him as they move through the steps. But it’s as if something is missing, a puzzle piece that refuses to fit, and Eddie just doesn’t click. His frustrations are palpable, and when they attempt the mid-air splits and bridal carry again, Eddie drops his partner. 

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry,” Eddie says, horrified, and helps her to her feet. His face is pale and his eyes are swimming with concern. “Are you hurt? Does this hurt?” He presses a gentle hand into her hip where she landed. “Do we need to call someone? I’m a firefighter, I can help. God I’m so sorry.” 

“I’m fine. Seriously, I’m really _really_ fine,” she says. When he doesn’t seem to believe her, she takes his hands in her smaller ones and tugs until he’s looking at her eyes and not where he thinks she might be injured. “Look, everyone screws up so don’t worry about it.”

Eddie still looks unconvinced. "I don't know how I let that happen. I'm really sorry. Fuck." He looks like he wants to drag the woman over to the benches and give her a full physical exam anyway. 

Buck wants to go to him and wipe that streak of guilt marring his face, but Eddie’s partner pats his cheek with delicate fingertips and says, “It’s okay to make mistakes. It’s okay to feel bad about them, too, but it’s not okay to dwell. At some point, you need to get over it, forgive yourself, and keep moving. The show must go on.” She winks. 

And the stricken look on Eddie’s face guts Buck. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am extremely sorry this week's chapter is a day late. I had a work deadline that needed to be met and that ate up my entire life for the past two weeks. The chapter is unbeta'd, but it is here, and I hope it's worth the wait!!

Her words hit Eddie right in the chest, and they sink through flesh and bone to spear him in the heart. He looks at her sincere blue eyes, sees the trace of worry there for _him_ even though she was the one who got dropped, then he looks at Buck. Buck, who’s been dealing with his moods and agitation and taking it all in stride without complaint. 

This isn’t just another night of distractions for Eddie, and it’s not about the can-can dancing, either. Buck took him here for a reason, as if he _predicted_ exactly what will happen that will lead to Eddie hearing those words. Words his colleagues—no, family, because the one-eighteen is as much his family as is his blood relatives, has been telling him for the past two weeks. Words he chooses to ignore because he’s too busy wallowing in self-pity. 

_The show must go on._

It’s as if a light has clicked on and it shines beyond just this dance. Beyond this one mistake, casting a beacon on every bad decision Eddie’s ever made. Forgiving himself seems like the easy way out. Just the thought of it wracks him with so much guilt he can’t breathe, but the small hands gripping his are solid and warm, and when Eddie dares another glance at Buck, his expression is soft and understanding and filled with so much love it takes Eddie’s breath away for a whole different reason. 

It may take more courage than Eddie has to forgive himself for dropping his partner, for the accident at the convenience store, for abandoning Chris, but he doesn’t have to do it alone. Not anymore. 

And Eddie notices, for the first time today, the tension in Buck’s shoulders, the tight lines in the corners of his eyes, and the shadow that seems to follow him everywhere when he’s with Eddie these past two weeks. Eddie should have noticed sooner, should have seen what his wallowing was doing to Buck, and now that he does, he desperately wants to fix it. 

Eddie takes a deep, shuddering breath and smiles at his partner. “You’re right. I’m sor—” She cocks a perfect eyebrow at him, and he swallows the rest of his apology with a chuckle. “You’re right. I promise I won’t drop you again.”

She smiles, and Eddie can feel the warmth of Buck’s smile blanketing him from afar. “Shall we try that again?” Eddie’s partner turns to Marcia and twirls an index finger in the air. 

“Might as well take it from the top,” Marcia replies. 

They get back into their two vertical lines, with Eddie in the left and Buck in the right, and the intro to the song blares through the speakers. Eddie clears his throat and twists his neck left then right as if he’s getting ready for a fight, then hooks his hands on his hips and bob to the intro beat. 

Eddie’s always been a great dancer, it’s why his _abuela_ got him into dancing as a kid in the first place, but he’s never done something like can-can, and frankly, he never expected it to be so strenuous. The first blare of trumpets signal the sideway shuffle, and Eddie curses under his breath as he misses the first step by half a beat. Four feet to his right, Buck kicks his gorgeous long legs to the side, a bounce in every step, and the look in Buck’s face is jubilant. 

It galls him that he doesn’t catch on as quickly as Buck. Sure, Buck has always been a quick study, he’d proven that the first night they danced together. Eddie just didn’t think he would be so bad at this when he’s the one with the dance training. But can-can is a different beast to what he’s used to, and this whole experience has been humbling. 

The song ends with the dancers in a line, waving at the imaginary audience, and for once tonight, Eddie doesn’t kick himself for only getting half of it right. At least he didn’t drop his partner again, which he’s counting as a win. 

Marcia flips through her large binder until she finds the steps to the new dance she’s teaching the whole group, and this time, Eddie gets to stand next to Buck. The fact that no one knows this dance boosts Eddie’s confidence a tiny bit, and he doesn’t feel so bad when everyone’s stumbling through the choreography. 

Buck touches him whenever he gets a chance to, and every brush of Buck’s fingers, every lingering look and encouraging smile grounds Eddie until his stomach stops churning. He still forgets steps and misses beats, but the mistakes don’t weigh on him anymore. Instead, they’re kind of freeing, and Eddie finds himself laughing every time he makes a wrong turn or when one of the ladies physically maneuvers him into the right place in line. 

And then it happens. Eddie makes it through an entire song, from start to finish, in perfect sync to the group. No misstep, no missed beat, no turning in the wrong direction. It’s as if as soon as he stops trying to be perfect, perfection finds him. When the echoes of the last note dies, Eddie’s chest feels too small for his heart. He jumps up and whoops, and he doesn’t care who can see just how joyous he is as he grabs Buck around the waist and spins them around in a circle. 

Buck laughs, the sound deep and throaty and sexy as hell, and when Eddie puts him back on his feet, he darts in and kisses the corner of Eddie’s mouth. 

“Knew you could do it,” Buck says with a twinkle in his eyes. 

Eddie cups Buck’s face and plants a kiss on his lips. “Yeah?” 

“Definitely. My dom can do anything if he puts his mind to it.”

Eddie’s throat constricts at the possessiveness in Buck’s voice. _His_ dom. “Does that make you my sub then?” 

“I guess it does, yeah.” Buck’s face splits in a wide smile. 

Eddie sighs, but before he can dart in and steal one more kiss, a soft hand lands on his shoulder. He turns and finds Marcia standing behind them, her lips pulled in a mischievous grin. 

“Just when you finally get into it, we’re done practice for the night,” Marcia says and spreads her hands regrettably. 

Around them, the ladies are taking off their colourful skirts and packing up their things. 

“I’m sorry—” Eddie stops, chuckles, and shakes his head. “I mean, I didn’t even notice. Thanks for tonight.”

She winks, and her smile widens. “Oh, I think your night’s just beginning.” 

“Marcia!” Buck warns, but the heat in his scowl is dampened by his twitching lips. 

“If you boys ever want to come back, you’re more than welcome to. We could use more men,” Marcia says, ignoring Buck’s indignant glare. “You gentlemen have a good night.” She winks again,turns, and waves over one slender shoulder as she glides away.

Buck takes Eddie’s hand and tugs him toward the gym doors. “Let’s get outta here.”

Eddie lets Buck drag him out into the cool night, and for the first time in a long time, his steps are light and head is clear. They pile into Buck’s car and peel out of the parking lot. Eddie doesn’t ask where they’re going, because for once in his life, he doesn’t need to be holding the steering wheel. He trusts that his partner will take him exactly where he needs to go. 

He reaches across the console and squeezes Buck’s thigh, and an answering hand covers his, threading their fingers together. Buck’s face darts between light and shadow as they drive past rows of street lamps, and every time his face comes into the light, Eddie’s breath catches, and he finds contentment in Buck’s sharp blue eyes, in the proud curve of his nose, and in the upturned corners of his lips. 

Fuck, but Buck is beautiful. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and turns his attention out the passenger side window, watching the houses and palm trees fly past in a blur of white, brown, and green. He’s still not very familiar with the city’s alleys and back routes, having not had a lot of time to explore while juggling work and being a single father. It’s not until they’re pulling into the parking lot that Eddie realizes where they are. 

“Venice beach?” He looks at Buck with raised eyebrows. 

Buck grins as he shuts off the engine with his left hand, his right still clasped over Eddie’s hand on his thigh. “Thought we’d go for a stroll on the beach.” He squeezes Eddie’s fingers one last time, then lets go and opens his car door. 

Losing Buck’s warmth sends a shiver down Eddie’s spine. He follows Buck out of the car and stretches his back and legs. There were a lot of high kicks and energetic prancing and lifting dancers into the air packed in the near two hours they were at the community centre, and Eddie’s grateful for the prospect of a walk to stretch out his sore muscles. 

Buck reaches out a hand and Eddie takes it, then they head toward the sound of the crashing waves and away from the prying eyes of lingering tourists and street lamps. Venice Beach is quiet at night in the middle of winter, not that LA’s winters are ever biting, but the stiff breeze sends another shiver down Eddie’s back. 

They walk in silence, and Eddie follows wherever Buck leads them. The cool ocean air is crisp with a hint of bitterness, and Eddie takes inhales deeply, making every breath count as he opens himself to the majestic ocean in front of them. They stroll hand in hand, their feet sinking in the soft sand, their shoulders bumping as they steal shy glances at each other. Everything about this is romantic and magical, and Eddie can’t believe he's waited this long to finally see the beach in all its glory. 

“Chris would love this,” he says, and Buck’s head snaps in his direction. 

“Oh, he absolutely would,” Buck agrees. “Maybe we should do a beach trip when it gets a little warmer.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, and we can pack a picnic and make a day of it,” Buck says, his eyes dancing with excitement, his free hand waving animatedly as he describes what’s starting to sound like the perfect day. “We can go swimming, and during the day there’s so much to see here. Entertainers, street food. Oh man, there’s this guy with this tiny little tamale cart. The best tamales you’ll ever have.”

Eddie smiles as Buck continues to plan out their perfect weekend together, and it’s not lost on him just how domestic it all feels. Buck talks about Chris as if he’s his own kid, and Eddie knows, deep down, that Buck would care for and protect Chris like Eddie would. Like a father. 

“Then there’s the pier. And all the live music and dancing.” Buck squeezes Eddie’s hand and stops dead in his tracks. “We may have to make it a beach weekend. Get an Airbnb or something, you know? Would Chris like that? I think he’d—”

Eddie chuckles and pulls Buck in for a kiss. They’re far enough along the beach that no one else is around, and with the lights of the city well behind them, they’re only companion is the stoic sea and the welcoming sand beneath their feet. Buck tries to talk through the kiss, but he shuts up when Eddie’s tongue darts past his lips. The kiss is languid and teasing as it ebbs and flows with the cadence of the waves. Bitter sea air mingled with the sweetness of Buck’s mouth lingers on Eddie’s tongue, and it’s a concoction he can get used to, can get drunk on. Can get lost in. 

Buck’s body melts against him, his fingers buried in Eddie’s hair. And Eddie’s roaming hands can’t decide where they want to be. He wants to touch all of Buck, map out every dip of muscle and curve of skin until every corner of Buck is etched in his memory. 

The need for air grows urgent, but Eddie’s need for Buck’s mouth, for his taste and those desperate noises he makes in the back of his throat trumps his body’s demand for oxygen. If Eddie dies tonight, he’d go happily suffocating on Buck’s sweet kisses. But Buck has other ideas, and he pulls back with a pained whimper, as if separating from Eddie physically hurts him. His chest heaves in time with Eddie’s, and the dark pools of desire in his eyes rivals that of the mysterious ocean behind them. 

Buck swallows, then sits down on the beach and pulls Eddie down with him. The sand is still warm with trapped sunbeams, and Eddie sighs in contentment when he leans his head against Buck’s shoulder and slips his arm around Buck’s slender waist. 

Normally, Eddie would want to find something to say to fill the silence surrounding them, but there’s no need for that tonight, not with the ocean whispering sweet nothings to them in the lapping waves against the sandy shore. Buck’s fingers thread between his once more, and despite his loose grip, Eddie feels safe and secure. Feels like, for the first time since Shannon died, that he can stop running. 

“Eddie,” Buck whispers, his voice hoarse and so so soft Eddie nearly misses it. “Thanks for tonight. For trusting me.”

“I should be the one thanking you, Buck,” Eddie leans up and kisses the underside of Buck’s jaw. “I really needed that, I think.”

Buck shifts until they’re face to face, and behind the obvious desire in his crystal blues, there’s a tenderness that makes Eddie’s ache. “You’re allowed to make mistakes, Eddie. You’re allowed to fuck up and lose control because sometimes life’s like that. Outside of our control. Especially with things that’s already happened.” 

Eddie’s throat closes, and suddenly he finds it hard to breathe. He knows that, knows that what’s happened in the past is beyond his control, but knowing and feeling are two different things, and sometimes—often—his heart and his head don’t see eye to eye. “I—”

“I know the demons you’re hanging onto, Eds. I can’t say I understand them, but I get the weight of them,” he continues as if Eddie hadn’t tried to interrupt him. “When I look at Christopher, when I’m with him, it’s like I’d give my life for him, you know? I can’t imagine the guilt you carry with you every damn day knowing that you missed the first few years of his life. But you need to let that go.”

Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. How does Buck—

“I used to ask the universe, why me? Why us? What did Maddie and I do to deserve all this shit? The shitty foster families aside, why our parents?” He swallows thickly and blinks as if trying to hold back tears, and Eddie’s heart breaks for him and the innocence he lost. “You know what that did? All that hanging onto the past? It drove me mad. And I started blaming myself for every bad thing that’s ever happened to me. That I was a bad person, and I deserved it because why else would the universe punish me in advance?” 

“Buck—”

“You’re not a bad person, Eddie. You literally run into burning buildings for a living. To _save_ people,” he continues. “Before this you were in the Army and even back then you saved people by becoming a medic. It’s literally who you are. You need to be kinder to yourself, because if you burn out, who’s going to be out there saving those who needs saving?”

It’s the way Buck says those last few words that give Eddie pause. _Those who needs saving._ Does he mean the people of Los Angeles or himself? Eddie only knows the tidbits of Buck’s past that Buck’s let on and whatever he’s learned from Chim, but Eddie has no clue exactly what Buck went through all those years before he met Bobby and Athena. Eddie has no idea what monsters he needs to save Buck from, but whatever they are, he’ll do everything it takes to make sure Buck never faces them again. 

Even if it means finally forgiving himself. 

Eddie takes a deep, shuddering breath, and when he releases that breath, he feels lighter, and the world grows a little brighter. He takes Buck’s hands in both of his, and his chest aches at the tremor in those beautiful long fingers. Eddie squeezes and nods, and Buck’s quivering smile solidifies Eddie’s resolve. 

“I’ll never let anything happen to you ever again,” Eddie murmurs into the tiny space between them. And he’s never been more sure of his conviction, not since the day he vowed to never abandon his son again. 

Buck leans his forehead against Eddie’s and huffs a sigh. “I know you won’t.”

“Evan.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

And Buck’s answering kiss is all Eddie ever needs from him. 


	14. Chapter 14

“Bye, Buck!” Emily waves from the classroom door then darts out after her mother. 

Buck sighs and runs a hand through his hair, happy that tonight’s cooking class went off without a hitch. Last time, little Brent burnt his finger on the hot oven tray, and Trish’s mom decided to show the class what a sliced open finger looks like. Blood and all. It was way too much excitement for a Monday night. 

“You want a bite?” Christopher’s voice pulls him from his thoughts, and Buck spins around to the boy holding out one of his triple berry and cheese danishes to him. 

Buck leans down and takes a big bite, then squats while he chews, mussing Christopher’s hair. “Thanks, bud. You did a wonderful job on the pastry.” 

“It’s not so hard once you figure out how to fold it properly.” Christopher stuffs the rest of his danish in his mouth and turns around to pack the rest of his baked goods in a plastic bag. 

A warm hand lands on his lower back as he straightens, and heat spreads all the way up his spine. “You’re really good with your students,” Eddie says and kisses his ear. “Oh, and you’re great with the kids too.”

Buck snorts, then turns and captures Eddie’s lips in a quick kiss before spinning away from the heat of his body. Eddie standing so close never fails to distract him, and as much as Buck loves having Eddie’s hands on him whenever possible, he still has a whole kitchen to clean up. 

“Sometimes teaching the parents how to not freak out is ninety percent of the battle.” Buck rolls up his sleeves and grabs the few stray tools along the benches as he makes his way to the back of the classroom, where piles of dirty dishes await. “The kids pick up on the nervous energy, and that’s when accidents happen.”

Buck scans the stacked trays and dirty bowls smeared with fruit compote and cream cheese filling and decides to start on the cutleries first. He plugs the large industrial sized sink, then turns on the tap and pumps some soap into the swirling hot water. Beside him, Eddie materializes with his sleeves rolled up, and Buck swallows as his eyes land on the shifting muscles of his forearms. 

“Don’t need to go home yet?” he asks as Eddie hands him a sponge. This isn’t the first time Eddie and Christopher have helped out with dishes, but Buck doesn’t count on it happening all the time given Eddie’s haphazard work schedule. Sometimes they dash out of here as soon as the classes are over if Eddie has an overnight. 

“Nope.” Eddie rearranges the dirty dishes from the smallest items, like forks, knives, whisks, and small ingredient bowls to the larger things like mixing bowls and oven trays, then hip checks Buck over so they can both get access to the sink and start scrubbing. “It is a school night, though, so we’ll have to get home before bedtime.”

“Well, thanks for helping,” Buck says. He scrubs all the spoons and rinses them in clean water, then lays them on the drying rack where Christopher is waiting with a dry towel. “Are you cooking lots at home, buddy?” 

“Yes,” he replies. “I made carbonara last night with Carla’s help. She wouldn’t let me fry the bacon.”

“I don’t blame her. You may need to wait a little longer before handling food that spits.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, like—” Buck makes a spitting, crackling sound with his mouth. “When the bacon’s frying, the oil splatters everywhere and you can get pretty bad burns.”

Christopher hums. “I guess.” 

Buck bumps Christopher’s shoulder with his hip and smiles down at him. Being with the boy brings out so much joy in Buck, and he wonders what it would be like to have a kid of his own someday. He’d like to tentatively think that having Christopher around is like having a son, but he doesn’t want to be presumptuous. He knows how protective Eddie is of Christopher, and as much as Buck appreciates how much Eddie shares Christopher’s time with him, he doesn’t want to step on any toes. 

“So, do you want to be a chef when you grow up?” Buck asks, and Eddie tenses up beside him. Huh.

Christopher thinks about it for a moment, his little head cocked to the side, and says, “Maybe. I never thought about it. I love cooking, but I’ve always wanted to be a firefighter just like daddy.” 

Pain shoots through Buck, and he tries to ignore the familiar pang. Just like him, there’s no chance Christopher can become a firefighter with his condition. The bitter taste of disappointment threatens to choke him, and Buck swallows around the lump in his throat as he tries to school his emotions. Christopher’s eyes lit up when he said he wants to be just like his daddy, and who doesn’t want to be a hero like Eddie? Buck mourns the day when the cruelty of reality snuffs out that light in this bright little boy, and anger replaces disappointment at the unfairness of it all. 

“Yeah?” Buck says, and he thanks the stars that his voice doesn’t betray the rage bubbling inside him. “Well, you know who makes the most popular firefighters?” 

“Who?”

“Good cooks.” 

Christopher’s smile brightens, and its radiance scorches Buck like the sun on a too-hot day. Christopher goes back to drying the cutleries, then starts to ferry them back to the bench stations. Beside Buck, Eddie’s shoulders relax, and he breathes out a slow sigh.

“Thanks for handling that so well,” he whispers, and Buck’s heart breaks all over again. 

He can’t imagine being Eddie and having to watch his son struggle through everything in life, only to never be able to have the thing he most desires. Buck knows the pain of that disappointment, and he doesn’t wish it on Christopher. 

“You’re welcome,” Buck replies. “He’s really a great kid.”

“Yeah, he is. It’s so damn unfair, you know?”

“Well, I’m sure he’ll find another passion. He’s still young.”

Eddie nods, and they go back to scrubbing bowls and trays as they watch Christopher sort equal numbers of knives and forks and spoons at every station. They make quick work of the rest of the dishes, and before long, Eddie and Buck are drying the rest of the clean dishes while Christopher brings them back to their stations. 

“Speaking of passions,” Eddie says, “you…want to be a firefighter, don’t you?”

Buck’s breath hitches as Eddie’s words stab him in the chest like an insistent index finger, one syllable at a time. His heart pounds against his ribcage, and suddenly the room is too hot. As much as he wants to believe Eddie wouldn’t make fun of him or scoff at him for it, he still can’t shake the fear that rolls through him when a Dominant sees into his soul and rips him open like this. “W-what?”

“Whoa there.” Eddie raises both hands in front of him, palms out, and judging by his shocked expression, Buck’s face must be doing something aggressive. “I don’t mean to pry, it’s just, I thought about you wearing my uniform a lot.”

Buck groans. 

Eddie’s lips twitch into a grin. “At first, I was obsessing over how hot it looked on you. And how it made me feel seeing you wearing my clothes. But then I was like, why was Buck wearing it in the first place, you know?”

Buck swallows and the lies to deny all of this are on the tip of his tongue. But the words stick in his throat as if some subconscious part of him is holding back the excuses. Buck studies Eddie’s face and finds no malice there. No ridicule or even good-natured disbelief, unlike all the doms Buck had unwittingly trusted in the past. 

_ No Submissive can ever be a firefighter. That’s not your place. Your place is here, kneeling by my feet. Don’t get your head so far up in the clouds you forget who owns you. You’re here drawing breath because I allow it, sub, and don’t you ever forget that. _

Those voices echo in Buck’s head like a bad dream. A nightmare he’s been struggling to wake up from his entire adult life. He wants to believe Eddie is different. Hell, Eddie’s proven himself again and again that he’s not a traditionalist, and Athena has shown him that even traditional doms can be kind and understanding and supportive. But a small part of Buck is still afraid. Afraid that Eddie’s voice will join those in his head, and it would hurt that much more because it’s  _ Eddie _ . 

A soft hand touches Buck’s elbow. He forces himself to not flinch, and that’s when he realizes just how tense he’s become. He takes a deep breath, then another, and when the third breath whooshes from his lungs, he finds Eddie’s arms around him and his nose inches from Buck’s. 

“Hey, baby, talk to me,” Eddie whispers, his voice soothing like a balm on Buck’s burning soul, and something settles in Buck’s chest. 

“I,” Buck starts, swallows, and swallows again around the lump in his throat before continuing. “Yeah. It’s been something I’ve wanted to do since I was a kid. Before all this”—he gestures to himself—“presented.”

“You mean, your Submissive orientation?” 

Buck nods. “And I thought it wouldn’t matter, you know? This isn’t the 50’s anymore. It’s legal now. Like that Submissive detective I read about in  _ D/S Weekly _ .” 

“The one from Vancouver, Canada? Novak was his name, I think?” 

“Yeah, that one.” Buck smiles ruefully, and the jitters in his fingers die at the mention of Detective Castiel Novak, the first Submissive to make homicide detective in a major city police force. “If he can be a homicide detective working with all those doms, then I can be a firefighter.” Buck stops and swallows again, his cheeks burning with shame as he looks down and studies the scuffed toes of his boots. 

Eddie’s arms tighten around him, as if he senses the turmoil in Buck, but he says nothing. Just holds Buck and gives himthe time to collect his thoughts and find his words. Letting him be himself at his own pace. 

Buck takes another shuddering breath. “That was a stupid dream born out of naive ideals. I know that now. Just because something’s legal doesn’t mean it should happen. I know where my place is in this world.” 

Eddie’s breath catches and he pulls back far enough to stare into Buck’s face, and despite the few inches Buck has on him, he feels tiny under Eddie’s furious scrutiny. Was it something he said? Did he admit too much again? He should have just kept his stupid mouth shut and passed the whole uniform thing off as him wanting to try on Eddie’s clothes. Doms always loved it when Buck told them he needed them in some way. 

And now Eddie’s angry—no, furious—and Buck doesn’t even know how to start making it right when he doesn’t know where he went wrong. He never knows where the line is with Eddie, and some days, he wonders if Eddie even has a line. But he obviously does, and Buck, the dumb fuck that he is, has stumbled over it without even trying. Why can’t he just be  _ good _ ? 

He opens his mouth, a million different apologies vying to come out first, but the only sound he makes is a strangled whine in the back of his throat, and Eddie’s frown deepens. Buck wants to look away, wants to drop to his knees and beg for punishment because maybe Eddie will stop being so angry once he’s taken all that anger out on Buck’s body. His stomach churns at the thought of Eddie beating him, and his skin tightens with a familiar fear. Fear and resignation. 

His knees bend, but instead of letting Buck’s weight drag him to the floor, Eddie yanks him in and holds him close. So close Buck can hear the erratic thumping of his heart. So close Buck can feel the tremors rolling through Eddie’s body as if he’s doing everything he can to not combust into a million pieces. 

“Fuck,” Eddie croaks, and his voice breaks on that one little word. “I’m so sorry, Evan. Fuck. What the fuck happened to you?” 

It’s not the words, but the broken edges of Eddie’s voice that snap Buck out of his spiral. He blinks as if waking up from a trance and realizes that he’s covered in cold sweat and shivering. His arms snake around Eddie’s waist, his fingers digging into the soft fabric of his shirt, and the scent of Eddie’s aftershave wraps around Buck like a warm blanket. 

He vaguely processes Eddie’s question, but he doesn’t have an answer. How can he explain his muddled past when he can’t even fully remember when all the bad shit started happening? How can he begin to put into words the things he never allowed himself to process because then they’d be real. They’d be real things, real  _ bad _ things, that happened to  _ him _ ? 

Buck shakes his head and breathes deeply, filling his lungs and every little nook and cranny of his soul with Eddie’s smell until the earth stops shifting beneath his feet. Eddie’s still whispering words of apology into Buck’s ear, into the crook of Buck’s neck, his large hands soothing up and down Buck’s arms and back as if he’s trying to cover Buck with his touch. 

And Buck can’t help but smile. He pulls back and stares into Eddie’s large brown eyes, dark with concern, and says, “I’m fine. Really.”

“Bullshit,” Eddie bites out, and the intensity of his words knocks the breath from Buck’s chest. “Don’t you ever bullshit me again, Evan.”

Buck swallows. 

“Your place in this world is wherever the fuck you want it to be. And if that’s being a firefighter? Then that’s what you should do.” Eddie sucks in a sharp breath and scrubs a hand down his face, and the anger replaces the worry in his eyes. “I don’t know what sort of shithead scumbag doms you’ve had that made you believe you’re less—less than, but goddamnit Buck, you’re amazing.”

Warmth spreads from the center of Buck’s chest to the tips of his fingers and toes, and he genuinely believes that Eddie believes what he’s saying. That if Buck truly wants to be a firefighter, that he can. The reality of the matter is, it’s just not that simple.

Or is it?

“I—thanks,” Buck murmurs. “But it doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve decided to go to culinary school.” Eddie raises a brow at him. “Yeah. I love cooking and I’m damn good at it. Maddie thinks I should pursue it and I agree with her.” 

Eddie looks like he wants to argue, but Christopher tugs on his hand and looks up at him. “Daddy, you okay?”

“What—ay,  _ mijo _ I’m fine.” Eddie takes a deep breath and forces the corners of his lips up. “Just having a chat with Buck.”

Christopher looks to Buck and his face splits in a big smile. “I put everything back in each station.” 

Buck musses Christopher’s hair. “Thanks, bud. You’re a great help.” He pats his pockets and makes a show of finding his keys, his eyes avoiding Eddie even though he feels Eddie’s gaze trained on him. “Shall we get going? It  _ is _ a school night.”

They grab their jackets and file out of the classroom. Eddie and Christopher wait for Buck to lock the room, and the three of them walk out to the parking lot together. Christopher babbles excitedly about something between them, but Buck only hears enough to make the appropriate noises, and Eddie does the same. 

When Buck opens the door to his car, he looks over the roof to find Eddie looking at him with such sadness in his eyes it makes Buck’s gut twist. He waves a hasty goodbye and gets behind the wheel before the sour sting of tears prickles the corners of his eyes. 

_ Fuck. _

===

Buck rings the buzzer and waits, shifting his weight from the balls of his feet to his heels and forward again. When he hears the soft click of the line connecting, he says, “It’s me, Buck.”

“C’mon up.” Maddie’s distorted voice drifts through the intercom speakers. “The door’s unlocked so let yourself in.” The line goes dead and the front gate unlocks with a sharp beep. 

“Hey, Steve,” Buck says to the doorman, who looks up from his desk and waves. 

“Buckaroo.” He smiles. “Dinner and movie night?”

“You know it.” 

“Say hi to Maddie for me.” 

“Will do.”

Buck pushes the button for the elevator and taps his fingers against his thighs as he waits. Fridays were family dinner and movie nights when their parents were alive, and when Maddie came back into his life, they decided to continue the family tradition. Buck always comes to Maddie’s place so it can be just the two of them. He loves his foster-turned-adoptive family, but this is something special he shares with his sister alone.

Maybe one day he’ll bring Eddie. 

Surprise steals his breath, and Buck blinks at his distorted reflection in the chrome doors of the elevator. Thoughts of Eddie sneak up on him whenever he’s got a free moment, and along with it, their last conversation. As much as Buck wants to believe that he’d be happy with culinary school, he knows firefighting is where his heart is.

He’s come to terms with the fact that he’ll never be a firefighter. But Eddie’s words, the ferocity in his eyes and the conviction in his voice, planted a seed inside Buck’s head that’s even now burrowing deeper and taking root until hope breaks through the surface like a sprouting plant. 

What if he can? What if? 

Buck shakes his head as the elevator doors ping open, and he steps in and pushes the button for the tenth floor. Ever since he met Eddie Diaz, his world has been turned upside down. The man is like no dom he’s ever met, not even Athena, and being in Eddie’s orbit, being near him, Buck feels things he’s been too scared to feel for a long time. 

Still scared to feel despite those feelings creeping up on him anyway. Security, comfort, companionship, maybe even love? Buck coughs and chokes down a few deep breaths, but his heart won’t stop jackhammering in his chest and his face burns at the idea that maybe he’s falling in love with Eddie. That he’s already fallen in love with him. That he’s allowed himself to. And  _ that _ scares the living daylights out of him. 

And it’s not just his head too, but his body has changed as well. The exercises he does with Athena at home to quell his sub urges don’t seem to work anymore, and he’s got this constant itch beneath his skin that only goes away when Eddie’s close. When Eddie’s hands are on him. When Eddie’s eyes are trained on him. He craves subspace like never before, and every second he’s not tethered to Eddie in some way, he wants to crawl out of his skin. 

This dependency, this  _ need _ , is utterly terrifying. 

Buck sighs when the elevator spits him into the corridor, and he slaps his face a few times before heading down the hall toward Maddie’s apartment. He needs to get his shit together or his sister will know something’s up, and relationship twenty-questions is the last game he wants to play right now. 

He takes a few more deep breaths, schools his face into something he hopes is a neutral expression, then lets himself into Maddie’s apartment. The aroma of garlic, onions, butter, and tomatoes greets him, and the familiar, homey scent eases his nerves. 

“Yo, Mads, it’s me,” he calls out and makes as much noise as he can shutting the door and taking off his shoes, letting her know he’s here. The first six months when Maddie came back from wherever it was her ex-husband moved them to, she was as jumpy as an abused street cat. The smallest sudden movements sent her into a panic. She’s doing much better now, but Buck always goes out of his way to make sure she knows he’s here and that she’s safe. 

“Hey, Buck. Make yourself comfortable,” she calls from the kitchen of her one-bedroom apartment.

“Don’t I always?” Buck pokes his head into the kitchen, pecks Maddie on the cheek with a wet kiss, then saunters down the short hall to the living room. 

Maddie’s place is not huge, but it’s tidy and perfect for one. The living room couch and coffee table doubles as a dining set, and across from the couch is a wall-mounted flatscreen TV. Next to the TV is the door to her bedroom, which is closed right now. For how much rent Maddie pays, she could get a bigger place, but this building is secure with actual working cameras and a doorman on duty twenty-four-seven. 

Buck flops on the couch and grabs the TV remote off the coffee table. He turns on Netflix, but not even a new episode of  _ Queer Eye _ can relax his mind. He turns the TV off and heads back into the kitchen, rolling up his shirt sleeves as he goes. 

“Want some help?” he asks as he comes up behind Maddie, who’s busy stirring something bubbling on the stove. 

“Why don’t you sit and let me make you dinner for a change?” she says and bats his hand away when he tries to reach for the wooden spoon she’s holding.

“Oh? Normally you’re always begging me to cook.” He rubs his stinging hand and gives Maddie a shove. “Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”

Maddie sticks out her tongue and shoves him out of the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready in five. If you want to help, get me two bowls then set out two spoons and pick a movie.”

Buck rolls his eyes, but he complies, bringing Maddie two deep bowls then grabbing two spoons from the drawer. He flops back down on the couch and turns on the TV once more. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Something fun this time,” she calls from the kitchen. “Work’s been hella depressing and I don’t feel like crying tonight.” 

Maddie is an ER nurse. If she says work’s been depressing, it usually involves kids or the elderly and the stories always break Buck’s heart, so he doesn’t ask anymore. Instead, he flips through to the comedy section and decides on a romcom with Chris Evans as the male lead. The Buckley siblings both love Chris Evans, and seriously, with that physique, that dashing smile, and those melt-your-heart baby blues? What’s not to love? 

With the movie primed and ready to go, Maddie comes into the room with two steaming bowls and what looks like cornbread balanced on the edges. Buck takes a bowl from her, and the sweet aroma of spices and tomato and beef and corn wraps around him. 

“You made chili?” He grabs a spoon off the coffee table and sits back on the couch, balancing his own on his thighs. “And cornbread? From scratch?” Buck cocks an eyebrow at Maddie.

Maddie hides her flushed cheeks behind her bowl and shoots Buck a glare. “Just try it and let me know how I can make it better.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.” Maddie glares at him harder, and Buck bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. 

“Okay, okay, jeez,” Buck placates and picks up his spoon. 

The chili is thick with chunks of stewed tomatoes, tender ground beef, soft black beans, sweet onions, and a well balanced blend of spices. Buck takes a bite of the cornbread and his eyes flutter shut as a fragrant sweetness coats his tongue. There’s a hint of butter beneath the vibrant corn flavour, and a rich, moist texture that doesn’t take away from the fluffiness. Buck dips the bread in the chili, and the mix of sweet and savoury and spicy is a symphony of flavours on his tongue, and he wonders why Maddie doesn’t cook more. 

“Mads, Christ,” Buck moans around another mouthful of chili and cornbread. “This is amazing. That’s it. It’s official, you’re cooking Friday night dinners from now on.” 

Maddie beams at him, her own bowl cradled in her lap, her spoon poised by her lips. “You think so?”

“Fuck yeah. I hope you made lots cuz I’m making off with a Tupperware.”

Maddie laughs and kicks his shin. “Like hell you are. The rest is spoken for.”

“What? You’re not gonna eat all that by yourself, are you?”

“…No.”

“Then—” Buck bolts upright as realization dawns on him. “Oh, the rest’s for Chimney, isn’t it?”

Maddie kicks him harder, but she doesn’t respond as she takes a huge bite of cornbread and chews vigorously. 

Buck is aware of Maddie and Chimney’s fondness for each other. He’s not blind, and every time Maddie joins them for Sunday night dinner, she and Chim find excuses to be close to each other. It warms Buck’s heart to see her go from the skittish thing she was to this happy, confident young woman who’s finally moving on with her life. She’s healed enough to let Chim in, and Buck can’t even imagine the courage that must take. 

If Maddie can finally let her past go, maybe Buck can too. Maybe with Eddie’s help, Buck can finally—

A loud, shrill beep reverberates through the tiny apartment.

Buck freezes. The alarm goes off again, and it’s so loud and invasive it’s all Buck can do to not plug his ears. Maddie takes another bite of chili and shrugs, looking unfazed. 

“It happens at least once a month,” she says when Buck gives her a questioning look. “Someone probably burnt their toast again.” 

Buck tries to relax and take another bite of food when a hint of smoke tickles his nose. He sits up again, places his bowl on the coffee table, and sniffs the air. Maddie stops mid-chew and frowns, her nose in the air as well. The unmistakable dusty smell of smoke grows stronger. Buck gets off the couch and peers down the hall. Pale tendrils of smoke seep through the gap beneath the front door. 

“Shit, Mads, there’s smoke!” Buck shouts and yanks her off the couch. “We gotta go.” 

Confusion makes way for urgency in her eyes, and she grabs her phone and keys off the table as she follows Buck to the front door. The smoke pouring through the crack grows thicker in the short time it takes them to get to the front door, and when Buck reaches for the handle, red hot metal brands his skin. 

“Fuck!” he yelps, waving his burnt hand, and Maddie drags him into the kitchen and jams his hand under a stream of cold water at the sink. The burning subsides even as panic rises in his chest. “The fire’s gotta be right outside. How the fuck did we miss it?” 

“I’m sorry. We should have evacuated when the alarm went off.” Maddie wets a kitchen towel and heads for the front door before Buck can pull her back. 

She wraps the towel around the handle and pulls, but the door won’t budge. Maddie turns her wild eyes on Buck, and the fear in her eyes mirrors the terror churning in his gut. Buck grabs his phone from his back pocket and dials the number he should have dialled minutes ago. 

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” 

“Fire! My sister’s apartment is on fire!” He rattles off the address, his free hand finding Maddie’s as they run to the opposite side of the tiny apartment, trying to put as much distance as they can between them and the fire. 

“We’ve received callsl from your address and help is already on the way,” the dispatch lady’s voice cuts through the smoke-induced haze in Buck’s brain. “Please evacuate the building if you haven’t already done so.”

“We can’t,” Buck gasps. “The fire’s right outside and our door’s stuck. We’re trapped.”

“Which floor, sir?”

“Tenth. South side of the building.” Buck pulls Maddie into him, and they huddle low to the floor where the air isn’t thick with smog. Yet. “Please, hurry.” 

“Help is on the way.” The distant sound of sirens accompany her words, and Buck’s chest swells with hope. Maybe it’ll even be the one-eighteen. 

“Are you away from the fire?” 

“Yes. But the smoke’s getting thick.” 

Buck looks down at Maddie tucked in the crook of his arm, and that hope turns to ice when he finds her passed out, the wet rag she had pressed against her nose and mouth fallen from her limp fingers. He picks it up and presses it back in place. Or he tries to. His fingers can’t seem to get the rag over her face. And his arm is heavy. So heavy. 

He looks up, but he can’t see past the thickening smoke. Somewhere, a voice is calling to him. He tries to answer, but his mouth is dry. Like that time he stupidly tried the teaspoon of cinnamon challenge. 

The phone slips from his fingers, and he makes an attempt to grab it.

Then the room blinks out like a broken lightbulb. 


	15. Chapter 15

Eddie reaches for the doorknob but the sound of hushed voices stop him. 

“I’ll have Arson look into it,” Athena says, her voice muffled but still as commanding as ever. 

“Okay,” Bobby replies, his voice just as soft. “Something just wasn’t right. The smell, the heat, and the fact the door was jammed shut.”

Eddie’s hand balls into a fist and he takes a deep breath. He was the one who reached Maddie’s apartment first with Bobby right behind him. The fire was hot, the smoke thick, and everything about the scene was off the second Eddie got there. The door lock was stuck, and they had to take an axe to the damn thing. In the heat of the moment, Eddie didn’t have the luxury to think. Couldn’t think even if he wanted to when Buck was trapped and unconscious. 

But now, without the adrenaline and fear coursing through him, Eddie thinks back on that fire and every instinct he has screams that it wasn’t an accident. That someone had set the fire on purpose. But who? And why? 

“I’m just glad the two of them are okay,” Athena says, and the commanding tone in her voice makes way for relief. She’s still a mother first and foremost, and in there is her baby laying in the hospital bed. 

There’s no response from Bobby. Eddie counts to ten then twists the doorknob, clearing his throat as he darts into the quiet hospital room. Bobby and Athena are sitting side by side next to the bed, their hands clasped in Bobby’s lap, their knees touching. They both look up as Eddie clicks the door shut behind him, and Bobby gives him a wan smile. 

Beside them, laying in the bed asleep, is Buck. His face is serene in slumber, his long lashes fanned against his cheeks, and his chest rises and falls in time with his breathing. His arms are on top of the blanket, and around his right hand is a thick white bandage. If Eddie doesn’t know better, it’s as if Buck’s just taking a nap instead of recovering from smoke inhalation. But Eddie does know, and he will never forget the rising panic that nearly drowned him when he finally busted down Maddie’s door and rushed into the apartment to find Buck passed out, his arms wrapped protectively around Maddie’s limp form. 

“Eddie,” Bobby says as he stands up. “What are you doing here?”

“Cap,” Eddie says, then turns to Athena and dips his head. “Sergeant Grant.”

“Do I look like I got my uniform on?” Athena cocks a brow at him, and Eddie swallows. 

“No, Ma’am.”

“Athena’s fine,” she says, her voice softening at Eddie’s obvious discomfort. “Or Mama Grant as the rest of the one-eighteen likes to call me behind my back.”

“Wait, you know about that?”

She rolls her eyes and tsks, and Eddie shrinks under her gaze. 

Ever since that night when Eddie dropped Buck off at home still floating in subspace, Eddie’s found it difficult to be under Athena’s scrutiny. One of these days, he’ll have to man up and apologize to her properly, face the music so to speak, but today is not that day. 

She pushes to her feet and slips a hand around Bobby’s waist, trying and failing to stifle a yawn. They must have been at the hospital all night after Buck and Maddie got dropped off. Eddie bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from yawning, having just come off his shift. 

“Well, I better get going,” she says as she checks her watch. “I got debrief in thirty, and I desperately need a shower and an extra large coffee.” 

“I’ll walk you.” Bobby kisses her temple then turns his attention to Eddie. “You’ll go home and get some sleep before shift today, yes?”

“Yes, captain,” Eddie says with a smile. “I hope you will too.”

Bobby nods and hugs Athena closer, and the two walk out of the room on quiet feet. It’s not until the door clicks shut behind them that Eddie lets out the breath he’s holding. He takes the chair Athena vacated just a moment ago and pulls it as close to the bed as possible, uncaring that his knees jam into the bedframe. Taking Buck’s unbandaged hand in his, Eddie lets out another slow breath when the warmth of Buck’s skin, proof that he’s alive and safe, seeps into him.

The minutes that followed Eddie busting into the apartment were a blur as he and Bobby carried Buck and Maddie through the smoke and fire and heat out to the cool evening air. Eddie had kept it together when Chim and Hen shoved them out of the way to slap oxygen masks on the unconscious Buckley siblings. Until the ambulance dropped Buck and Maddie off at the ER. He helped the team restock the truck and ambulance and mop the floor of the mud the truck dragged in. 

It wasn’t until he stripped off everything that stunk of smoke and burning chemicals and stepped under the shower that the dam broke. 

If anyone heard his dry heaves and barely contained sobs, no one said anything. When he finally stepped out of the shower, his skin rubbed raw, he found Chim in the change room with the same haunted look in his hollow eyes. Chim’s with Maddie now, just as Eddie’s here with Buck, and he can only imagine the shit going through Chim right now. Probably the same cold fears still wrapped around Eddie’s heart, squeezing. 

Watching Buck’s prone form tucked under the sterile hospital sheets, skin pale in the fluorescent light, brings back memories of another time when he was in the hospital, sitting in this exact position, holding another hand that had belonged to someone dear to him. Shannon never woke up from her accident, and it was Eddie who made the call to pull the plug. A fresh wave of nauseating guilt threatens to overwhelm him, and not for the first time, he wonders if he’d pulled her plug too soon. If he’d only waited a little longer, then maybe she’d have woken up. 

Even if the doctor told him it was time. Even if his head had said the same. 

He’s grateful Buck isn’t hooked up to anything other than a heart monitor, because he’s not sure he’d survive the sight of Buck with tubes coming out of him the way Shannon did. The very idea that he almost lost Buck last night makes him want to throw up. It’s only been a few months, but Eddie can’t imagine what life would be like without Buck, without his teasing smiles and his easy charm, and the warmth that envelops him whenever Buck spends time with Chris. 

Beneath his hand, Buck’s fingers twitch. Eddie bolts upright and shuffles closer to the bed, and the rock in the pit of his stomach drops when Buck’s eyes flutter open. It takes Buck a second, but recognition sinks into those crystal blues, and Buck’s lips tug into a smile.

“Eddie?” 

“Hey,” Eddie coos and leans closer to Buck. “How’re you feeling? Do I need to call the nurse?”

Buck shakes his head and uses the hold Eddie’s got on his hand to tug himself into a sitting position. “No, I’m fine. I was just napping. What time is it? When did you get here?”

“It’s just a little after seven,” Eddie says. “I just got here.” When Buck’s eyes dart behind him into the room, Eddie adds, “Bobby and Athena just left.”

“Oh, I hoped they’d have gone home earlier to get some shut-eye,” Buck mumbles, eyes downcast. 

Eddie brings Buck’s hand to his lips and kisses each knuckle, forcing Buck to look up at him. “They wanted to make sure their son is okay. I’d have done the same for Chris.” Buck’s Adam’s apple bobs and he inhales sharply, and Eddie aches for him. “As you would have done for them, too.”

Buck’s face softens and he squeezes Eddie’s hand. “Of course.” 

Seeing Buck’s smile, hearing Buck’s voice, feeling the pressure of Buck’s fingers around his, it brings Eddie all the clarity he needs. He loves Buck, and it takes almost losing him for Eddie to finally put a label on this glow he’s been basking in all this time. He wants to pull Buck in his arms, want to strip him down and peel him back layer by layer until there’s nothing left between them. Eddie’s done feeling guilty for finding someone again, done running from all the shit that’s been holding him back from giving himself to Buck completely. 

As if Buck can sense all the emotions boiling over inside Eddie, he leans forward and touches his forehead to Eddie’s, and their breaths mingle in the tiny space separating their lips. “Thanks,” he whispers.

“What for?” 

“For saving me. Saving Maddie. For being here right now.” Buck’s tongue darts out to moisten his lips, and before Eddie can respond that saving people is his job, Buck’s mouth presses against his in a tender kiss. 

There’s no hot desire or demanding need in the caress of Buck’s lips. Only gratitude, and when Buck’s tongue licks past his lips, the taste of being alive overwhelms his senses. Eddie cups Buck’s cheek with his free hand, the fingers of his other hand threaded between Buck’s, and he basks in the sweetness of Buck’s lips, in the soft noises in the back of Buck’s throat. Or is he the one making those noises? Eddie can’t tell, and he doesn’t care as he savours every lick and every nip. 

Buck groans into Eddie’s mouth, and the sound sends the innocence of the kiss flying, replacing it with something devilish hot and needy. Buck’s arm slips around Eddie’s neck and pulls him forward, and Eddie throws out a knee to catch himself as he tumbles onto the hospital bed. Buck’s been through hell and back and Eddie shouldn’t, but the intoxicatingly demanding nip of Buck’s teeth on his bottom lip chases logic out the window. 

It’s so rare when Buck lets this side of himself come through. Lets himself not only take charge but make demands in a way he believes is against his very nature. And Eddie doesn’t want to stop him, doesn’t want to startle the delicate centre of Buck’s being when he’s like this. Besides, Eddie likes it when Buck takes from him what he wants. Likes it when he’s the reason Buck forgets himself and loosens the tight noose of acceptable social norms he’s wrapped around his own neck. 

A soft polite cough startles them apart, and Eddie nearly falls off the bed as he whips around to find the doctor standing in the doorway. He stands up quickly and smoothes down the front of his shirt, thanking his lucky stars the jeans he changed into before coming to the hospital hide things so much better than his work slacks. Next to him, Buck shifts in his hospital bed and clears his throat, his cheeks looking as red as Eddie’s feel. 

“Mr. Evan Buckley?” 

Buck swallows. “Oh, um, yes that’s me.”

“I’m Doctor Lee,” the doctor says as she shuts the door behind her, her lips twitching as if she’s trying to keep a straight face. And failing. “I see you’re feeling much better.”

“Uh—I—yeah,” Buck finishes lamely and grabs the back of his neck with his good hand. “Much better.” 

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, his eyes darting around the room as the doctor checks Buck’s temperature and blood pressure. When both come back normal, she flips through his chart quickly and says, “You came in with smoke inhalation and loss of consciousness. Your tests and scans came back fine, and you didn’t inhale enough smoke to cause any damage. I’m okay with discharging you if you’re feeling better. Just make sure you keep an eye on your breathing, and if you feel nauseous or disoriented or if you experience shortness of breath—”

“I’ll call nine-one-one,” Buck cuts in with a cheeky smile. 

Doctor Lee chuckles and shakes her head. “Or your boyfriend here can just drive you back to the ER.” She turns to Eddie and says, “Make sure he gets lots of bedrest for the next couple of days and keep an eye out for the symptoms I mentioned. A nurse will come by with your discharge papers, then you’re free to go.” Then she’s gone in a stiff flutter of her pristine lab coat. 

“So,” Buck says as soon as the door closes behind her. “You’re supposed to keep me from getting out of bed, huh?”

Eddie swallows and sighs, his dick on board with the devilish grin on Buck’s face even if his head knows Buck needs to actually rest. “Probably not the way you’re insinuating. Besides, Athena would kill me.”

Buck hums, his brows pinched. “You know what? You’re right. I really should have my own place for these sorts of things,” he says, and his eyebrows go from pinched to waggling suggestively, and not even Eddie can keep a straight face at that. 

“These sorts of things? Like bedrest?” Eddie plays dumb despite the interest his cock has taken in the conversation. 

Buck rolls his eyes. “Yeah, something to do with beds. And maybe having you in them with me. I mean, even the doctor thinks I’m too old to still be living with my parents. It’s time.”

“What about your physical needs? With Athena—”

“I got you now,” Buck replies without missing a beat, and Eddie’s heart skips one. 

Buck stares at him with big, trusting eyes, and Eddie shivers under the weight of all that blue blanketing around his shoulders. It’s amazing how completely Buck trusts him, believes in him in ways Eddie doesn’t believe in himself. And he finds himself wanting to be that person for Buck. To take care of Buck’s every need, mentally or physically. 

To be good enough to deserve the trust Buck places in him. 

The nurse chooses this moment to pop in with discharge papers, and Eddie is grateful for the few extra minutes to collect himself. A part of him is still terrified of screwing this all up. Of breaking Buck’s heart like he broke Shannon’s. But one look at Buck, the tip of his tongue stuck out between his lips as he tries his best to scribble his name on the discharge forms with his left hand, and Eddie’s chest swells with so much fondness it might explode. 

It’s a few more signatures and one last temperature and blood pressure check before the nurse gives them the all clear. Buck waits until the nurse leaves the room before reaching behind his neck to untie the hospital gown. Eddie debates if he should look away, but Buck doesn’t wait for him to turn around before slipping the gown from his arms, revealing his wide shoulders and solid chest. Dark hair sprinkles across his chest and tapers down his stomach, the thinning trail disappearing beneath the bunched up material of the gown at his hips. 

Eddie swallows as he tries not to imagine the treasure that trail leads to. Instead, he clears his throat and rummages in the duffel next to Buck’s bed until he finds a clean, soft white t-shirt, sweatpants, and a pair of underwear. So, Buck’s a boxer briefs kinda guy. 

A balled up bundle of cotton flies past Eddie’s head, and Eddie swallows again knowing Buck’s most likely naked behind him. He tosses the underwear over, keeping his eyes trained to his sneakers, and his ears burn when Buck’s soft chuckle mocks him. 

“I’m decent,” Buck sing-songs and nudges Eddie’s calf with a bare foot. 

Eddie turns around, and his mouth goes dry at the site of Buck, clad only in his underwear, laid out on the hospital bed. His hands are tucked behind his head, and his legs are spread invitingly, but it’s his smile, cheeky yet seductive, that sends a jolt of want straight to Eddie’s dick. Eddie wants to taste every inch of that deliciously tanned skin, wants to take Buck apart piece by piece with his kisses and licks and nips until Buck’s a writhing, begging mess. 

Buck smirks as if he can see right into Eddie’s mind, and Eddie scowls as he tosses the shirt at Buck’s smug face. Eddie helps Buck into his t-shirt, an errant finger brushing against a perky nipple as he pulls the fabric over Buck’s abs, and Buck’s eyes darken with accusatory need. 

Eddie stands back and smirks. Pay back’s a bitch, sweetheart. He ignores the death glare thrown his way and waits for Buck to make sure he’s got all his essentials, like wallet and keys and phone. 

Buck turns on his phone and grips it tightly as he thumbs through his notifications, his brows knitted in a frown. Eddie waits for Buck to find what he’s looking for, and he’s rewarded with Buck’s wide, relieved smile a moment later. 

“Maddie’s awake. She sent me a text not long ago,” he says as he bolts to his feet. “I’m gonna go see her. Wanna come?”

“Is that even a question?” Eddie rolls his eyes and grabs Buck’s duffle bag by the hospital bed. “I can drive you home after if you’d like.”

Buck stops short of turning the door knob and looks at him over his shoulder. “Only if it’s not too much trouble?”

Eddie darts in and brushes his lips across Buck’s temple. “Never too much trouble for you, baby.” 

===

Eddie wipes his sweaty palm down the side of his slacks before knocking on Bobby’s office door. 

“Come in,” Bobby calls out, his voice muffled by the heavy oak door. 

Despite the rest of the firehouse feeling like one giant fishbowl on the inside, Bobby’s office is secluded with four solid walls. Eddie takes a deep breath, then twists the door handle. Bobby’s seated at his desk, his head bent over paperwork, but he looks up when Eddie closes the door behind him with a soft click. 

“What can I do for you, Eddie?” Bobby pulls off his reading glasses and sits back in his chair, his face split in a wide smile. 

“I actually wanted to ask you about the fire at Maddie Buckley’s apartment,” Eddie says as he walks up to Bobby’s desk. He stands to attention, with his feet apart and his arms behind his back. Years of military training are ingrained in his muscles. 

Bobby’s smile fades a little, and his eyes grow serious as he points at the chair next to Eddie. “Why don’t you take a seat.”

Eddie relaxes and slips into the chair, but the change in Bobby sets his heart racing. “I overheard you and Sergeant Grant at the hospital the other night—”

“We thought you might have,” Bobby interrupts, then sweeps his hand toward Eddie, urging him to continue. 

“The thickness of the smoke and the smell, and how hot it was burning, I’m sure there was accelerant at the scene,” Eddie says. “I’m just curious if Arson has found anything yet.”

Bobby regards him for a long, silent moment, and Eddie tries not to squirm under Bobby’s shrewd eyes that seem to see right through him. Not that it’s any of his business to ask about any arson investigations, and Bobby’s certainly not required to talk to him about any findings, but how is it that Maddie’s apartment just happens to be the target of an arson attack? And how is it that it happens while Buck, the adoptive son of a fire department captain, is there? 

Those could all be coincidences, but in Eddie’s line of work, both present and past, believing in coincidences can get people killed. 

“Well,” Bobby says, his voice low, as he leans forward and places his elbows on the solid desk. “Arson did confirm that there was accelerant present at the scene.”

Eddie’s throat constricts even though he suspected as much. 

“However, there was accelerant detected all over the tenth floor, and the other four apartment locks were also tampered with, so while the building might have been targeted, we don’t think the Buckley siblings were.” Bobby gives him a knowing look, and Eddie’s cheeks burn. 

Of course Bobby figures out exactly why Eddie’s so invested in this case. It’s not that he doesn’t feel for the other families who lost their homes to the fire, and he’s happy they were able to get everyone out with only minor injuries, but what he cares most about is knowing that Buck and Maddie aren’t on the radar of some crazy stalker. 

Though, having this lunatic who’s too happy to watch things burn out on the loose isn’t great for the firefighters or the innocent people whose homes can go up in flames in the blink of an eye either. 

“Are they any closer to catching this guy?” Eddie asks. 

Bobby shakes his head. “That I’m not privy to but I’m sure the LAPD is doing their best.” 

Eddie studies Bobby’s twitching lips and he’s sure Bobby’s not telling him everything, but he got what he came here for, and he can be happy knowing that Buck is safe. He sighs and makes to get up, but Bobby stops him. 

“Wait, Diaz,” he says, and Eddie freezes mid-stand. Bobby never calls him Diaz unless something serious is about to go down. 

Eddie sits again in the chair slowly, the nape of his neck prickling from the way Bobby’s eyes have him pinned, and he swallows. “Yes, Cap?”

Bobby leans back again, his elbows resting on the arm rests, and he’s the perfect image of relaxed despite the hard glint in his eyes. Eddie’s spine tingles, the same way it used to right before an imminent ambush when he was in the Army. 

“So, you and Buck, huh?” Bobby says. It’s not a question, but a simple declaration of facts disguised as one. 

Eddie swallows again and sits up ramrod straight, his ass perched on the edge of the chair. “Yes, sir?”

“He’s a good man with a good heart,” Bobby continues as if Eddie hasn’t spoken. “And it took us a long time to make him realize that.” 

Eddie nods. He has an idea where this is going but he’s not stupid enough to interrupt his captain when Bobby’s got that look in his eyes, like one wrong move and Eddie will be a corpse on the floor. Bobby’s always so relaxed around the crew, never pulling rank and never barking orders unless it’s at a scene where precision and decisiveness saves lives, that Eddie forgets sometimes that Bobby is their captain for a reason. That Bobby can be deadly when he wants to be. 

“If you’re looking for a sub to take the edge off, there are tons out there who are looking for the same thing in a dom.” Bobby’s voice grows quiet, and thick, suffocating tension swirls in the air around them. 

Eddie’s heart breaks all over again for Buck. For the man he’s fallen so hopelessly in love with. Even the idea of hurting him makes Eddie nauseous, and red hot rage bubbles beneath his skin. Just how badly was Buck beaten down when he got to Bobby that Bobby feels this fiercely about protecting him? About protecting his heart and soul? Eddie swallows around the lump in his throat and meets Bobby’s steely gaze, his own resolve to protect Buck just as strong, if not stronger. 

“I don’t know what he’d been through, and I know I’m not perfect, maybe not even the perfect man for him,” Eddie says, glad his voice is steady, “but I swear I’ll never let anything happen to him, and I’ll never purposely hurt him.” Eddie tries to shove as much sincerity into his words as possible, hoping they’re enough to convey just how much Buck means to him.

They must have been enough, because Bobby’s lips curl up into a satisfied smile, and the hardness melts from the corners of his eyes. He’s back to the Captain Nash Eddie’s grown used to as he slips on his reading glasses and picks up his pen, poised to return to his paperwork. “If there’s nothing else, you’re good to go, Eddie.” 

Eddie forces himself to walk casually out of Bobby’s office, only breathing a sigh of relief once the door shuts behind him. He smiles, then, and wills his heart to stop pounding up a storm. Bobby, who makes split-second decisions every day that save more lives than Eddie has hair on his head, thinks Eddie’s good enough for Buck. Thinks he’s qualified to care for Buck as he steps into the next stage of his life where Bobby and Athena can’t go. This approval and trust ease the lingering doubt in Eddie’s heart, and suddenly he needs to hear Buck’s voice. Needs to be connected to Buck even if it’s through something as lack-lustre as a mere phone call. 

He pulls his phone from his back pocket and finds his hands trembling and chuckles. Damn, but if that wasn’t the most terrifying shovel talk he’s ever had. He shakes his head, then dials his boyfriend. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week killed me, so I just finished writing this now and didn't have time to get this betad. I know there will be a shit ton of mistakes, but I hope you will just...gloss over those XD!! Please enjoy!!

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Athena asks him in that no nonsense mom voice she has whenever she thinks one of her kids is being stupid. 

Buck rolls his eyes and gathers her shorter frame into a bone crushing hug. “Yes, Mom, I’m fine I swear.” Bobby and Athena never insisted that he call them mom and dad, and it took Buck a long time to utter those two little words again. The first time he called Athena mom was after she helped him find Maddie, and the guilt nearly killed him. But she’s as much his mom as his biological mother was, and Buck’s glad he has her and Bobby in his life. 

She cups his cheek and gives him a stern look, but Buck doesn’t miss the genuine love and concern in her soft brown eyes. “If you need anything, you call me or Bobby, you hear?”

“Promise.” Buck plants a kiss on her forehead then ushers her toward the front door. “Now, don’t you have a city to protect?” 

She gaze lingers on him, and her eyes take on the same sadness that darkened them when Buck told the family his news last night. Guilt punches through him, but he shoves it down and sticks his tongue out at her. She rolls her eyes and yanks open the front door, waves at him over her shoulder, then she’s gone. 

Buck lets out a slow breath and watches her car pull out of the driveway before heading back to his room. The first week after he got back from the hospital, Athena and Bobby took turns making sure he got the bedrest the doctor prescribed. By the second week, and only after his obvious progress toward recovery, he was granted internet privileges much to Buck’s relief. He can’t imagine life without the access to a whole world of information at his fingertips and thanks his stars he wasn’t born in the 60’s. 

And he’d put that privilege to good use.

Now, at the end of three weeks of house arrest, Buck’s finally allowed to go outside without Bobby or Athena accompanying him. Sure, he had visits from his friends from the community centre and the guys from the firehouse, including Eddie who visited him almost every day except when he had do a twenty-four hour shift, but it’s not the same as having his autonomy back. 

He can only imagine what Maddie’s going through, having lost her home to the fire. She’s staying at Chim’s until she figures out her next steps with the insurance company. Secretly, Buck wants her to just commit and move in with Chim. The man obviously adores her, and they’ve been together long enough to take things to the next step. Not to mention, Buck would feel better knowing that she’s got someone looking out for her when he’s not around. 

But, that’s not a decision he can make for his sister no matter how badly he wants to. 

Besides, he’s got his own life changing decisions to make. He turns on his laptop and stares at the email he got yesterday, still open in the browser, and his heart beats a little faster as a fresh wave of nerves wash over him. Is he ready for this? After so many years of not wanting to be alone, does he really want to do this? Before doubt has a chance to take root, his phone pings in his pocket. 

Grateful for the interruption, Buck pulls it out to find a text from Eddie. Perfect, just the man he wanted to talk to. 

_ Hey. Just got off work. How are you feeling today? _

Buck smiles despite himself and thumbs back a reply. 

_ Great actually. You free to hang for a bit? _

The reply comes almost immediately. 

_ Yeah. Be there in 30?  _

_ Sounds good. See you soon.  _

Buck looks at the email then at his phone, the screen still open on his message history with Eddie, and doubt makes way for conviction. He’s not alone anymore. As if to confirm this, his phone buzzes in his hand, and the dim screen lights up with another message from Eddie. 

_ Miss you. See you soon. _

And Buck’s heart clenches as he flops on his bed, grinning like a love-sick teenager. 

Eddie arrives in less than the thirty minutes he threatened, and Buck pulls the front door open to his two favourite men in the world. 

“Christopher!” he exclaims and squats to look Christopher in the eye. Buck hasn’t seen him since before the fire during the last cooking class, and he misses Christopher almost as much as he misses Eddie’s kisses. 

“Buck! I missed you,” Christopher says as he throws his arms around Buck’s neck, the strength in them surprising Buck as he’s yanked forward in a crushing hug. “Daddy says you were in a fire and he was really worried that you’d die but I told him you wouldn’t die before teaching me how to make a soufflé.” Christopher pulls back and beams at Buck, and Buck swallows the lump in his throat as he looks between the boy and his father standing awkwardly in the doorway. 

“You got that right, bud. Can’t have you grow into manhood without knowing how to make a decent soufflé, and your dad’s certainly not going to teach you,” Buck says with a wink. He pushes to his feet and ushers them both inside. Christopher makes some noise about needing to pee as he kicks off his shoes and makes his way down the hall and toward the bathroom. 

Buck turns to Eddie with a grin. “Worried about me, huh?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes and licks his chapped lips, and Buck can’t help but track the movement as his need to taste those lips skyrockets now that Eddie’s  _ right here. _ “Am I not supposed to be worried for my sub when I’m the one who carried his limp body from a burning building?” His words are indignant and possessive, but his voice is soft and warm without bite. “Now come here so I can kiss you.” 

And Buck obliges like his life depended on it. He steps into Eddie’s orbit and presses his lips to Eddie’s, and the irritating buzz beneath his skin fades as his world settles back on its axis. Eddie wouldn’t kiss him, wouldn’t even hold his hand when he visited during the three weeks Buck was under Athena’s watchful eye. It’s as if Eddie’s afraid she’d shoot him or something, and it would have been funny if the lack of physical contact between them didn’t drive Buck nuts. 

Ever since that first night at the club, the only thing that soothes Buck’s physical sub urges is being close to Eddie, touching him and being touched by him in some way. Not having that for three weeks hurt almost as badly as the pain in his chest from the smoke inhalation, and as the three weeks wore on, it got worse. 

Having Eddie’s lips on him, his breath mingling with Buck’s, his hands roaming up and down his arms, it settles that urge like magic, and the lack of agitation teases a relieved moan from Buck’s throat. Judging by how Eddie’s body shudders against his, this one kiss is probably helping with his dom itches too. 

“Buck? Daddy?” Christopher calls as the click click click of his crutches echo toward them, and Buck and Eddie part with reluctant groans. 

“Yeah, bud,” Buck replies as he rakes a shaky hand through his hair, and the heat in Eddie’s eyes mirror the flame burning in his gut. But putting out this fire will have to wait until later because the last thing they need is to traumatize Christopher. 

The boy comes around the corner and smiles. “What are we doing today?” 

His question reminds Buck why he asked them to come by, and the driving need for Eddie’s lips take a back seat as fresh nerves twist his guts. “Well, I was actually thinking we’d go on a little road trip.”

Eddie cocks a brow at him. “Where to?” 

“You’ll see.” 

Buck waits for Eddie and Christopher to step out of the house, then he locks up and follows Eddie to his car. He helps get Christopher strapped into his booster seat, then they set off in the direction of the community center. This would be his first time seeing this place in person, and Buck’s torn between excitement and apprehension. He reaches a hand across the console and lays it on Eddie’s thigh. Eddie’s large hand covers his, and the warmth and strength of it settles Buck’s nerves. 

Eddie follows his directions past the community center while Buck tries to deflect Christopher’s barrage of questions about this mysterious place they’re going to. Most of the time, Buck actually doesn’t have the answers, so it’s not an outright lie when he replies mostly with  _ I don’t know _ and  _ you’ll have to wait and see. _

The residential area is a quick ten minute drive from the community center, and after a couple more turns, Buck asks Eddie to stop in front of a modest looking two story house only slightly bigger than Eddie’s. The exterior of the house is painted a soft eggshell white with two large windows facing the street, and an artistically curved stone walkway leads from the curb to the heavy wooden front door. The garden in the front of the house is neatly kept and coming to life under the warmth of spring, and Buck can already imagine just how lovely it would be once all the flowers are in bloom. 

The neighbourhood is alive with activity this hour in the afternoon. Two houses over, a group of kids about Christophers age are playing a rambunctious game, and to the left, a man stripped to his waist dips a sponge in a bucket of soapy water and straightens to scrub the side of his car. It is a lovely day for a car wash, and Buck can’t help but give the man an appreciative once over. 

“This is the place,” Buck says, rubbing his hands together. 

Eddie kills the engine and looks at the house then at Buck, his brows cocked in question. “Are you picking up something here?” 

Buck grins and opens the passenger side door. “Sorta, yeah.” He gets out and opens Christopher’s door, helping the boy out into the warm spring breeze. With a beckoning head tilt, Buck leads them to the front of the house and reaches into the mailbox. His fingers come in contact with cool metal, and his grin stretches into a full on smile, and Buck turns to Eddie, dangling the two keys in his face. 

“Got it.” 

Eddie’s eyes widen as realization dawns on him. “Buck…is that…” 

“Guys,” Buck says with a wide sweep of his arm, “welcome to my new home.” 

Before Eddie can say anything, Buck gestures with an excited wave and Christopher follows him down the walkway to the left side of the house and into the backyard. A big play structure is erected in the middle of the neatly groomed backyard, with a tire swing and a short slide sticking out the side of it, and Buck can always see himself spending many hot summer evenings lounging on the grass. 

“Did you guy a house, Buck?” Christopher asks as he stops next to Buck on the small back porch. 

Buck sticks the key into the backdoor and chuckles. “I wish, bud, but no. I’m renting the basement suite. Wanna go inside and see?” 

“Yeah!”

Eddie stands behind them, waiting for Buck to open the door and for Christopher to tumble in with an excited whoop before catching up to Buck. 

“You were serious about moving out?”

“Yeah,” Buck replies and shuts the door behind Eddie. The basement suite is really on the ground floor. Afternoon sun spills through the half shuttered blinds at the window at the front of the house, painting the empty living room in stripes of buttery yellow. Buck breathes deeply and takes a moment to bask in this space.  _ His _ space. 

Christopher is no where in sight, no doubt poking his nosy little head into every crack and cranny he can find. Eddie takes a quick look through the open concept kitchen, small but functional with lots of counter space, then he walks to the window and peers outside before disappearing down the hall leading to the two bedrooms and bathroom. 

Even though Buck hasn’t been in here physically, he’d gotten the virtual tour from the owners. The video did not do the suite justice, and Buck’s even more excited at the prospect of living here now than he was a week ago when he got in touch with the landlady. 

Eddie comes back down the hall, his lips pulled in an impressed smile, and stops in front of Buck. “Buck, this place is amazing. It’s also central enough that the rent must be insane.”

“Actually, it’s not,” Buck says, and he can’t help the smugness seeping into his voice. 

“Oh?” Eddie cocks an inquisitive brow. 

“Remember Emily from the cooking class?” 

“Yeah, the little girl with the pigtails. Her mom’s always the last to leave.” Eddie scowls, but his lips twitch into a lopsided grin. 

“Yeah. This is her family’s place,” Buck says. “They had an elderly couple living down here before, but they moved away to be closer to family, and the mom doesn’t want some stranger moving in here, that with Emily being so young and all. They asked me to pass the word around to see if I knew someone who’s looking for a place to rent a couple weeks ago. After the fire and out talk, I figured it’s time, so I reached out and the place was still available. They’re so excited to have me they’re charging me peanuts for it.”

Eddie’s head shifts in an arc as he glances through the kitchen and living room once more, then turns his attention back on Buck. His eyes are gleaming with excitement, but underneath that spark is a smoulder that sends a jolt down Buck’s spine. Eddie stalks toward him, and Buck takes involuntary steps back until his ass hits the kitchen counter. His breath hitches when Eddie steps into his personal space, his body caging Buck in. Trapped, Buck has on where to look but into Eddie’s stormy eyes, and his mouth dries as he inches forward, angling for a kiss.

It isn’t lost on Buck now that he’s got his own place, he and Eddie finally have somewhere to be alone. To explore their relationship in new ways. To sample each other with their clothes off. To—

“Daddy! Buck! Come see, there are stars on the ceiling!” Christopher shouts from down the hall. 

Eddie springs back and blinks as if coming out of a trance, and Buck clears his throat. He adjusts the front of his jeans and smirks when he catches Eddie doing the same. Perhaps, Eddie’s head went where Buck’s did, and Buck is a-okay with that. 

“ _ Ay, mijo _ , we’re coming,” Eddie calls back. When he turns to look at Buck, one hand outstretched, his cheeks are flushed. “I guess we better go see.”

Buck snorts and takes Eddie’s hand, and even that simple skin-on-skin contact is enough to warm him. He follows Eddie down the hall and into the bedroom to the left. It’s the smaller of the two, and as they walk through the door, they find Christopher sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, his smiling face upturned at the ceiling. 

“Look,” he says and points up. 

Buck and Eddie follow the direction of his finger and find glow in the dark stars plastered all across the ceiling. There must be at least thirty packs worth of stickers, if what Buck remembers of the number of stars and planets that came in a pack is correct. 

“Whoa,” Buck whispers as he spins around to look at every corner of the sticker-covered ceiling. 

“You said the last tenants were an elderly couple?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe this was the room they prepared for when their grandkids visited?” 

“Maybe,” Buck agrees. “Man, I’m glad they left the stickers.”

“I want to sleep in this room, Buck,” Christopher says matter-of-factly as he pushes to his feet. “I want to see the stars light up when we turn off the lights.”

“Of course, bud.” Buck musses Christopher’s hair affectionately. “This room’s all yours.” And when he feels eyes on the back of his skull, Buck straightens and pivots to find Eddie staring at him, his expression unreadable. “Um, of course, only if sleepovers are okay with your dad.” 

Christopher looks to Eddie with big puppy dog eyes, and whatever shadow was hanging over Eddie disappears. “Can I, Daddy? I promise I’ll brush my teeth for the whole minute and I’ll tuck myself into bed and I’ll eat whatever Buck makes for breakfast.”

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head and uncrosses his arms to muss Christopher’s hair, just like Buck did minutes ago. “Of course. Maybe I’ll even join you for a sleepover sometime.”

“No thanks.” Christopher ducks and smoothes his hair. “Sleepovers are supposed to be fun. No parents allowed.”

Eddie pulls a sad puppy face, and Buck can’t help the laughter bubbling from his chest. He walks up to Eddie and takes his hand, threading their fingers together, and squeezes. “It’s okay. Maybe Daddy can have a sleepover when Christopher’s not here.”

Heat seeps back into Eddie’s honey brown eyes, and Buck swallows and looks away as his cheeks burn. “Wanna go see the backyard?” He asks, hoping some fresh air will clear his head. 

As much as he wants nothing more than to get lost in the depth of Eddie’s eyes, Christopher being here makes doing anything beyond an innocent kiss impossible. Besides, the suite isn’t the only news Buck wanted to share with Eddie today. 

Eddie’s gaze lingers on him for a beat longer before he clears his throat and nods. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

The three of them file out of the house, and Buck locks up before joining Eddie in the middle of the big yard. Christopher’s wandered off to investigate the play house, giving Buck and Eddie a moment of alone time. 

_ It’s not or never, Buckley.  _

Buck glances at Eddie’s profile and swallows thickly before saying, “So, the house isn’t the only thing I wanted to tell you about.” 

Eddie turns to him, brows arched. “Oh?”

“I, um—” Buck licks his dry lips and stares down at his sneakers. It shouldn’t be so hard to say what he wants to say, especially to Eddie, but after years of holding this little piece of himself so closely to his chest, the idea of finally saying it out loud is terrifying. 

As if sensing his discomfort, Eddie turns to him and slips an arm around his waist, pulling him close. His body is solid against Buck, like a pillar of endless strength that Buck can syphon until he’s steady enough to stand on his own two feet. It should feel pathetic, to depend on someone like that, but needing Eddie has become such a natural part of Buck’s that he no longer feels ashamed of it. So he melts into Eddie and takes a deep breath, leaning on him for a beat longer as he summons his courage. 

“I thought about what you said earlier, about becoming a firefighter,” Buck says as his stomach twists in knots. “And I think I’m gonna do it.” The words rush out of him in a breathless whoosh. 

Eddie pulls back and blinks, surprise lighting up his face as his lips spread into a wide, jubilant smile. “For real, Buck?” 

The spark in Eddie’s eyes smoothes out the twists in Buck’s belly, and Buck finds it a little harder to breathe when he nods. “Yeah, for real.”

“What made you—”

“The fire.” Buck murmurs and shudders as phantom heat brushes across his skin, and his lungs drag in an extra large gulp of air. “I was terrified, Eddie, of losing Maddie. Of dying. I felt so helpless. Then I heard the sirens, and I knew help was coming and the surge of hope probably saved my life.” 

Eddie inhales sharply and frowns, his arm tightening around Buck’s waist. 

“I want to do that, Eddie, help people. Save people. Give them that hope.” Buck’s body burns hotter with every word, as if his biology is fighting teeth and claws against this notion that he  _ thinks _ he can become a firefighter. He’s shaking, and he doesn’t realize he’s crying until the world turns into a watery mosaic of shapes and colours. 

“Baby, Bu—Evan, look at me,” Eddie whispers and turns Buck in his arms until they’re standing face to face. “You’ll make an amazing firefighter. You know why?” Buck shakes his head and sniffs. “Because you’re brave and strong and you want to save people. Because despite all the shit and the stupidity in this world, you’re not afraid to go after what you want.”

A choked sob escapes Buck’s lips, and he wants to tell Eddie he’s wrong. That Buck’s only brave because Eddie’s by his side. That he’s only strong because he’s got Eddie holding him up. But he  _ does _ want to save people, and that part is one hundred percent Buck. 

Eddie brushes gentle thumbs across his tear-streaked cheeks and kisses his eyelids. When he pulls back, his smile is so radiant it’s infectious, and Buck can’t help but smile despite his stuttering breath and stuffed up sinus. 

“You’ll be great, and I’ll help you every step of the way,” Eddie says with conviction.

Buck nods, then leans in and steals a chaste kiss from Eddie’s lips before snuggling into Eddie’s embrace. They cling to each other like this for a long, quiet moment, until Buck’s breathing calms. His eyes are heavy, and contentment settles in his chest as he watches Christopher make his thorough inspection of the play house with glee. 

“So,” Eddie murmurs into Buck’s ear, breaking the spell around them. “When are you moving in?” 

“Next weekend,” Buck replies into the crook of Eddie’s neck. “I told the fam about moving out last night. Bobby and Athena said they’re clearing their schedules for next Saturday.” 

“Next Saturday it is.”

“What?”

“You know I’m helping you move, right?” Eddie pulls back and nips the tip of Buck’s nose. 

Buck yelps and rubs his nose gingerly. “You think you’re gonna get the same time off as your boss?” 

Eddie winks and smirks. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.” 

===

Buck stacks the last of the cardboard boxes in the living room and straightens with a groan. For a guy whose whole life fit into a backpack when he first moved into Bobby and Athena’s home, he’s managed to accrue quite a bit of stuff over the years. Having greatly underestimated just how much shit he has, he’s grateful that Eddie, Chim, Maddie, Bobby, and Hen have all offered to help. 

“Yo, Buck. Be useful or get the fuck out of the way,” Chim huffs behind him, and Buck jumps out of the way as the shorter man shuffles into the living room carrying one end of a massive blue leather couch. 

Hen rolls her eyes as she lifts the other end as if the thing weighs nothing. Together, they lower the cough in the middle of the living room. “Karen says, and I quote, ‘take care of this couch or else.’ And between you and me?” Hen taps Buck’s shoulder and winks. “I’d listen. This is her parents’ couch that she inherited. When we got married and moved in together, I convinced her to put it in storage.” Hen scrunches up her nose and gives the couch a distasteful pat. 

Buck can see why Hen didn’t want the three-seater in her living room. The blue is loud, bordering on obnoxious, and from what Buck can remember of Hen’s living room, she’s all about the zen colours. No, this couch would have stood out like a sore thumb in her home. Buck, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about the colour. He’s just happy he doesn’t have to spend money on some cheap, lumpy couch. Despite the colour, the leather is smooth and well-loved and the cushions are soft. 

On the kitchen counter are boxes of new bowls and plates and cutleries and pots and pans and a whole bunch of other kitchen essentials. Housewarming gifts from Athena who, due to a last minute emergency at work, couldn’t make it for moving day. In the small eating area that connects the kitchen and the living room is a large IKEA box with the picture of a dinner table on the front. A gift from Maddie and Chim when they arrived this morning to help Buck move. 

Stacked by the far wall of the living room is a brand new flatscreen TV, still in its box. When Bobby let slip that Buck is moving out, all of the one-eighteen chipped in for it. When Bobby and Eddie showed up with it this morning, Buck was too choked up for words, so he took a selfie with the TV box and sent it to one-eighteen WhatsApp group chat with a shit ton of heart emojis. Buck has enough money saved up for this move, but it’s nice to know there are people out there who genuinely care for him and want to help.

Buck heads back outside just as Bobby pops his head out of the back of the moving truck. “Wanna give me a hand with this?” 

“Of course.” Buck climbs up next to Bobby and grabs one side of the queen sized bed frame. “Where’s Eddie?”

“Went off to get food.” 

Buck frowns as he follows Bobby off the truck and toward the house. “Pretty sure I’m supposed to feed you guys for helping me move.”

Bobby winks. “That’s why he left without telling you.”

“Fucker.” 

“Yeah, but you still seem fond of him.” 

Buck looks up and meets Bobby’s sharp hazel brown eyes. “I am. A lot.” 

“I’m happy for you, son,” Bobby says with a soft smile. “And Eddie’s a good man.” 

“I know.”

“Not too bright though”—Bobby winks—“since he went and got himself involved with his boss’ son.”

Buck rolls his eyes and tries not to bump the frame against the hallway wall. “Dad, please tell me you didn’t—”

“Yup.” Bobby pops the p and grins. “It’s literally the best part of being a father.”

“I thought the best part is watching your children grow into responsible adults and law-abiding citizens.”

“No. That’s the fulfilling part.” Bobby gives Buck a long hard look filled with pride and love, then looks away as he maneuvers the frame onto it’s side and through the bedroom door. 

Buck swallows the lump suddenly lodged in his throat and wills the sting of tears to go away. He knows Bobby is proud of him even though he hasn’t done anything to deserve it. Sure, he’s come a long way from the quiet, withdrawn foster kid he was all those years ago, but the fact he’s doing so well now is more a testament to Bobby’s and Athena’s patience and the endless amount of love and kindness they showered on him. 

A part of him still feels guilty for deciding to move out without getting their permission first, but he doesn’t want to apologize for doing something for himself, for doing something he truly wants, so he settles on pulling Bobby into a bear hug when they put the frame down. 

“Thanks, Dad, for everything.”

Bobby’s arms slide around his shoulders and squeeze, and no more words are needed between them. They head back to the truck three more times for the headboard, mattress, and dresser. By the time they have everything wrestled into the bedroom, Chim, Hen, and Maddie are already half way through unpacking his new kitchen utensils, the three of them joking with the easy companionship of old friends. 

It warms Buck’s heart to see Maddie doing so well after the fire. Maybe he should urge her to just move in with Chim, after all. It’s obviously doing her a world of good. 

“Are you guys having fun opening all my brand new appliances?” Buck asks as he steps around the growing pile of plastic and cardboard in the middle of the kitchen floor. 

“It’s not everyday you get to unpack this many brand new things,” Maddie replies while peeling the protective film off his new toaster. 

“Are you hinting that I need a new toaster?” Chim pipes up with a grin. 

Maddie throws the ball of sticky plastic at him and shakes her head. “I’m not that subtle, Chim. If I want a new toaster, you’ll know.”

The front door cracks open with a “Hello?” from a familiar voice. Buck looks up and finds Carla pushing through the front door, her eyes growing wider by the minute as she takes in the new place. Behind her, Christopher and Eddie bring up the rear. Eddie’s holding four large flat white boxes, and the smell of melted cheese and tomato sauce permeates the air. 

“Carla,” Buck exclaims as he rushes to pull her into a tight hug. 

She squeals in delight and plants a kiss on Buck’s cheek before demanding to be put down on her feet. “Buckaroo, you did not tell me your new digs were going to be so fancy?” 

Buck laughs. “I’m not sure about fancy, but I love it already.” 

“Carla, carla,” Christopher chimes in and takes Carla’s hand. “I wanna show you my room.” 

She cocks a brow at Buck, her gaze shifting between him and Eddie, before she let herself be dragged down the hall to the room with the stars. Buck turns to Eddie, but before he can say a word, his stomach growls long and loud. 

“Hungry?” Eddie’s teasing tone is reflected in the mirth in his eyes, and Buck wants to smack him. 

“Some of us worked hard all morning, okay?” Buck growls. “Besides, I was going to get the pizza.”

“You won’t find pizzas like these anywhere else,” Eddie says as he lifts the lid of the top box. “Christopher made these for you, didn’t you,  _ mijo _ ?” 

“Yeah, just like you taught us last month in class, Buck, ” Christopher replies, materializing beside him. 

“He worked hard all morning,” Carla says, standing behind Christopher with a hand on his shoulder. “Wouldn’t even let me help.”

Buck looks from the pizzas to Christopher, and for the millionth time today, he tries not to cry. Instead, he reaches for the stack of paper plates he picked up for the move and rips into the plastic wrap. “Thank you, Christopher, these look amazing. Let’s eat while they’re still hot, yeah?”

“Okay.” Christopher takes the plate Buck offers him and grabs the first slice of cheese pizza from the box. 

There are two cheese and two pepperoni pizzas, way more than the seven of them can eat. Everyone grabs their slices and Buck hands out the waters he already chilled in the fridge. They all pile into the living room. Chim, Maddie, Christopher and Hen snuggle up on the couch. Bobby stands leaning against the wall with his paper plate and napkin and three slices of pizza in hand, and Eddie and Buck sits on the floor with their shoulders bumping. 

After a long morning of heavy lifting, everyone’s hungry, and the pizza couldn’t have come at a better time. Buck takes a bite of his cheese slice and groans. The cheese is gooey and salty, a blend of mild mozzarella and sharp cheddar. It’s not too thick, just the right amount to bring out the sweetness of the tomato sauce. The crust is nice and chewy, with a perfectly browned crust on the bottom. If Christopher keeps cooking like this, he’ll be an amazing chef before he turns eighteen. 

The room is silent save for the sound of chewing and the occasional moan, and it’s only after everyone’s inhaled their first slice that conversation picks up again. 

After the pizza, Bobby, Chim, and Hen leave for the station to start their afternoon shifts. Maddie catches a ride with them since she came in with Chim this morning and didn’t drive. Carla takes Christopher home, and on her way out, she congratulates Buck on the place again with a devilish wink, and Buck can’t help but feel like she can see into his head and find all the horribly selfish and R-rated reasons why he wanted to move out.

And then it’s just the two of them. 

Buck looks up from where he’s gathering paper plates off the kitchen counter and finds Eddie unboxing his coffee maker. He’s wearing his old Army t-shirt, the one that’s too tight across his chest and shoulders, as if he got this shirt before he discovered weights at the gym. Not that Buck’s complaining when Eddie’s muscles ripple and shift beneath the thin cotton as he pulls the coffee maker from its box and peels off the plastic wrap. 

“Where do you want the coffee maker?” Eddie asks over his shoulder, his voice snapping Buck out of his blatant staring. 

“Uh, right there on the kitchen counter is fine. Next to the sink,” Buck replies, glad his voice is steady. He turns his attention back to the task at hand and stuffs the trash into a garbage bag. 

“We should load the dishwasher and run the bowls and plates and utensils through so you have something to eat with tomorrow,” Eddie continues as he begins tidying the kitchen counter of cardboard boxes. “Though there’s enough pizza left over you shouldn’t need to cook for a couple of days. We should also make your bed and find your toiletries so you can get settled in right away.”

“Well aren’t you the moving expert.” Buck regrets his words as soon as he uttered them. The apology is on the tip of his tongue, but the sad, lopsided smile Eddie shoots him shuts him up. 

“Gotta be good at something, right?” A flash of pain shadows his usually bright eyes, but it’s gone so quickly Buck wonders if he imagined it. “C’mon, lets go find your sheets.”

It takes them opening every box labeled bedroom to find Buck’s sheets. They make the bed in companionable silence, then Eddie heads back to the kitchen to load the dishwasher while Buck fills his dresser with socks, underwear, and a few changes of clothes, just enough to hold him over until he has a chance to unpack. 

With his bed made, toiletries in the bathroom, and the dishwasher running, Buck and Eddie flop on the couch next to each other and sigh in unison. It’s been a long day for them both, and Buck’s grateful Bobby gave Eddie the whole day off so they can have some alone time in Buck’s new place. Eddie shifts back on the couch and pulls Buck, his back to Eddie’s chest, against him. His arms circle around Buck’s shoulders, and when he buries his nose in Buck’s hair and inhales, Buck finds true contentment. 

They lay like this for a long, long time, until the sun begins to dip beneath the horizon and the room dims with the orange glow of sunset. Buck is floating in a soft cloud on the edge of subspace with Eddie’s fingers carding through his hair. It’s domestic bliss in a way Buck has never experienced before. This is his place,  _ their _ place, and no one will interrupt them on purpose or otherwise. Whatever lingering guilt he had for moving out so suddenly dissipates with every stroke of Eddie’s fingers, and Buck’s eyes flutter shut when Eddie scratches at the base of his skull in lazy scrapes. 

Eddie kisses the top of his head, then nudges for him to sit up. Buck complies, albeit reluctantly, and whines when Eddie swings his leg off the couch and gets up. “Can’t we sit like that forever?” 

Eddie winks at him over his shoulder as he makes his way to the kitchen and says, “Be patient, sub.”

And the shiver that rolls through Buck jolts him to full alertness. It isn’t so much the words but the command hidden within them that stirs Buck’s blood, and his back is ramrod straight as he tracks Eddie’s every move. 

Eddie opens the fridge and pulls out a Tupperware Buck hasn’t seen before. His brows are pinched as he carefully pops off the lid, and the frown lines smooth away when his lips twitch into a satisfied smile at the contents. When Eddie comes back to the living room, Buck is vibrating with the need to kneel. Christ, it’s terrifying how one look and three little words from Eddie can turn Buck’s insides into mush. 

He swallows and waits for Eddie to sit down—the plastic container held just out of Buck’s sight—then asks, “Can I kneel?” 

“Can you?” Eddie replies cheekily and Buck’s face burns. Eddie chuckles at Buck’s obvious discomfort, and the teasing glint in his eyes softens into something tender. “Of course, c’mere.” He points at the space between his feet, and Buck trips as he scrambles to his knees. 

He wants to peek into the Tupperware and find out what Eddie’s got in store for him, but he keeps his eyes trained on Eddie’s face like a good Submissive, giving his Dominant his undivided attention. If Eddie wants him to know what’s in the box, he would have shown Buck. Until then, Buck will wait no matter how curious he is. 

His hands ball into fists on his thighs, and he sighs when Eddie cups his cheek and leans down to plant a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. “You’re always so damn perfect, you know that?” Eddie murmurs against his lips, his ticklish breath sending shivers skittering across Buck’s skin. 

“I want to be perfect for you.” 

“I know.” Eddie grins and pats his cheek, then straightens and reaches into the plastic container. “Christopher isn’t the only one who slaved away in the kitchen for your big day.” 

Buck’s eyes widen and his cock swells so quickly he grows lightheaded at what Eddie plucks form the container. “Chocolate covered strawberries,” he breathes, and his heart hammers against his ribcage as he remembers the last time Eddie made them this delectable treat. 

Eddie presses the fruit to Buck’s lips and holds it there, letting the heat of his skin melt through the chocolate to the juicy red berry inside. Just like how Buck melts under the heat of Eddie’s touch. 

“Lick your lips,” Eddie commands, his voice already raw around the edges. 

Buck complies quickly, his tongue darting out to lap at the bittersweetness of luxurious dark chocolate. Eddie presses the tip of the berry past Buck’s lips, and Buck doesn’t need any urging to sink his teeth into the supple flesh. Sweet and tart juice fills Buck’s mouth, coating his tongue and cutting through the richness of the chocolate, and Buck moans as he chews and swallows. The combination of chocolate and strawberries is intoxicating, and Buck will never tire of it, especially if Eddie’s the one feeding it too im. 

Eddie pulls the half eaten strawberry from Buck’s lips and takes a bite himself. Buck swallows as the berry juice stains his lips a vibrant colour, red so seductively bright. Or maybe it’s Buck’s visions becoming saturated as he tumbles into subspace faster than the speed of light. The room glows with the buttery softness of lamplight, and things come into and out of focus in time with his pulse. 

Buck takes a deep breath, and he can feel his chest expanding, feel the fibres of his muscles and the shift of his ribs as sweet oxygen fills his lungs. The world comes into sharp focus one minute, then turns fuzzy around the edges the next, and Buck sways on his knees before falling back on his haunches. Somewhere, beyond the fog clouding his head, he knows he should have kept his posture, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind as he presses another piece of fruit past Buck’s lips with tender fingers. 

It’s not a strawberry this time, but something with a sweeter fragrance. The flesh is soft and tacky as Buck chews, and the taste reminds Buck of a hot summer day filled with whipped cream and maraschino cherries and vanilla ice cream. 

“Thought we switch things up a bit,” Eddie murmurs and plucks another piece of chocolate covered banana from the container. “I want to find your favourite.” Eddie takes a small bite of the fruit then leans down and claims Buck’s mouth. 

The flavours of chocolate and banana mingle with the taste of Eddie’s lips, and Buck groans when Eddie’s tongue pushes past his lips. So many textures, so many flavours, so many sensations demanding his attention, and Buck is so lost in the waves of the onslaught he can’t breathe. A hand grips the back of his neck, strong fingers curling into the fine hairs at the base there, and Buck lets himself be steered every which way so Eddie can ravish his mouth unrestricted. 

He swallows the chocolate and banana, and all that’s left is the hot press of Eddie’s tongue licking into his mouth. Eddie’s lips claiming him, Eddie’s teeth branding little pieces of himself into Buck’s soul. Buck doesn’t remember being dragged off the floor. Doesn’t remember climbing into Eddie’s lap. All that matters is the all consuming taste of Eddie’s mouth on him, Eddie’s hands roaming along his back and under his shirt, the drag of his fingers on his bare skin igniting trails flames that threatens to scorch but doesn’t. 

Buck needs so much more than kisses and touches. Needs to be closer to Eddie in a way he’s never needed to be close to anyone else. He fights through the haze and pulls back long enough to stare into Eddie’s lust-blown eyes and finds a small thrill of satisfaction at the unchecked desire in those honey browns. 

“Need you. Want you.  _ Please _ ,” Buck begs, channeling every ounce of want and desire he can into those three words. 

Eddie’s eyes darken, and they shift from burning fire to storming tempest in the span of a single heartbeat. Strong arms circle around Buck’s waist, and before Buck’s next shallow inhale, he finds himself sprawled out on the couch with Eddie between his spread legs. 

Just being here, on his back, legs spread for Eddie, it sends Buck’s every nerve ending into overdrive. His soft worn t-shirt is too scratchy against this hypersensitive skin, and his cock hurts as it rubs against the inside of his underwear, trapped behind the cruel metal zipper. He needs to be naked. Needs to be ready for Eddie’s taking in whatever way Eddie, his Dominant, wants him. For the first time in his life, Buck’s not afraid of the demands of his biology. Not afraid of what surrender would bring. 

Because Eddie will take care of him. 

His hips arch off the couch in offering, and Eddie growls as he shoves Buck down. “You drive me wild, Evan Buckley.”

“ _ Please please please _ ,” is all Buck can manage, his mind too far gone for words. 

Eddie snarls in his ear and grinds down against Buck’s tented erection with his own straining arousal, and Buck nearly creams his pants right then. Eddie’s so  _ hard _ and it’s all because of  _ him _ . Because Eddie wants  _ him _ . Buck sinks his nails into the pliant leather of the couch, forcing his body to be still because Eddie hasn’t said he can move or touch. 

Impatient hands shove his t-shirt up to his chin, then Eddie bunches up the material and stuffs it into Buck’s mouth. “Hold this, and don’t move.” 

And Buck doesn’t dare move a muscle as he clamps his teeth down on the soft bundle of worn cotton jammed between his lips. Eddie’s lips light a blazing trail down Buck’s chest, moist tongue and sharp teeth making their way down Buck’s chest, to each painfully hard nipple, down the valley of Buck’s abs and follows his dark trail of hair to—

_ Oh God. _

Buck whimpers and temporarily forgets Eddie’s no-moving rule as he struggles onto his elbows and stares down the plain of his body. Eddie yanks his jeans and boxers down his hips and off one leg, too impatient to bother with the other, then bullies his way back between Buck’s spread thighs. His eyes rake along Buck’s body, growing stormier and stormier the longer he looks, and Buck forced himself to not shrink from the scrutiny. 

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes, and Buck’s not sure if the whispered word is meant for him to hear. “ _ Tan lindo. _ ”

It always takes Buck a second when Eddie switches away from English, especially when his brain is ten steps behind and lagging with desire. When the meaning of those words finally hits him, it’s at the same time as Eddie’s lips close around the head of his cock. 

Buck’s choked cry is muffled by the t-shirt in his mouth. His body refuses to obey as his hips shoot off the couch at the wetness and heat of Eddie’s mouth sliding down his shaft. The head of his cock hits the back of Eddie’s throat, and stars explode behind Buck’s shut eyelids. The pressure, the swirl of Eddie’s tongue, the  _ idea  _ that his cock is in Eddie’s  _ mouth _ , it’s all so incredible. 

And wrong.

Buck’s gotten blowjobs before, but it’s always been from Neutrals and subs he hooked up with in the past and not a Dominant.  _ Never _ a Dominant. Because Dominants do not serve, they do not give. It’s their job to take, to demand obedience. To reward or punish, and if a sub finds pleasure in servitude, then that’s a bonus. 

Every cell in Buck’s body vibrates with the need to shove Eddie off, to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness for enjoying Eddie’s mouth around his cock. And he almost does it—his hands raised to push Eddie away—until he forces his eyes open and looks between his legs to find Eddie’s gaze locked on him, studying him with shrewd clarity. 

Eddie knows what he’s doing, knows what this must be doing to Buck. The glint in his eyes is rebellious, daring, and Buck recognizes it for what it is. A challenge to the deeply ingrained expectations that’s been beaten into him through pain and neglect. And an offer of something better, something different and liberating. 

Freedom. 

Their gazes hold for a long, charged moment. The air crackles with tension, then Eddie swallows around the head of Buck’s cock and the world melts away in molten heat. Buck flops back onto the couch and exhales, the breath ending on a choked moan when Eddie’s tongue swirls around the base of his shaft. 

There’s no point fighting it, just as there’s no point fighting his life-long desire to become a firefighter. The world can try to hold Evan Buckley down, but he’s more than his biology. More than societal expectations. And there’s no one better than Eddie to show him that. 

As if reading his mind, Eddie pulls off Buck’s cock and nips the thin, sensitive skin of his inner thigh. “Come back to me, Buck.” His voice is hoarse, but the unmistakable teasing note makes Buck smile even as his breath hitches from the sharp pain. 

“Yes, sir.”

Eddie tenses between his legs, and when Buck looks down at him once more, the storm is back in his eyes. Without another word, Eddie swallows his cock in one smooth motion, and Buck is lost. Pleasure unlike any he’s ever experienced drags him under like a riptide, and he’s only too happy to go under and let the ocean of desire wash away his doubts and shame. 

The room shrinks into a single point of focus as Eddie works him over with skilled lips and tongue, and the occasional sharp nip of teeth sends uncanny jolts of pained pleasure through him. Gentle fingers cradle his balls, rolling them in time with Eddie’s lips stroking up and down his shaft, and a familiar pressure builds at the base of Buck’s spine and in the pit of his stomach. 

His cock is achingly hard, and he can’t help the desperate little thrusts of his hips whenever Eddie swallows him to the hilt. A finger drags down from his balls across the bridge of skin between his sack and taint, and Buck’s eyes shoot open when that finger brushes against his clenching hole. He spreads his legs wider and bears down, suddenly acutely aware of the demanding emptiness inside him. 

Eddie hums around his cock, and the vibrations push him that much closer to the edge of the abyss. The finger, slick with spit, circles his rim before pressing in just as his cock pops past the ring of muscle in Eddie’s throat, the tip nestled snugly in Eddie’s throat. 

Buck’s whole body is on fire even as he shivers from the sheen of sweat cooling his skin. He can’t. It’s too much. He can’t hold on any longer, and Eddie’s finger curling so deliciously inside him is a new sort of torture. Eddie hasn’t said he can come. Hasn’t given him permission to let go, but he’s so close. So fucking clo—

Eddie pulls off his cock with a loud pop, and the sudden lack of wet heat drives Buck’s eyes wide open. The gruff command is choked and raw, but it’s powerful none-the-less. 

“Come, Evan.” 

And Buck’s world flashes blinding white. 


	17. Chapter 17

Eddie grips the base of his cock and squeezes. Hard. Anything to keep himself from creaming his pants as Buck’s cock pulses inches from his face, the tip still blurting the occasional pearl of come as Eddie milks his prostate. 

When he ordered Buck to come, he didn’t think Buck would, especially untouched, yet here they are. Buck’s spent cock glistens with Eddie’s spit, and Eddie already misses the taste of Buck’s skin. Misses the look on Buck’s face when Eddie took him in his mouth. 

A part of Eddie is livid at the horrific experiences Buck must have had with past doms, but the silver lining to that is Eddie gets to show Buck that he’s loved, cherished, and an equal. Eddie gets to break whatever constricting mold Buck’s been confined to. And that is worth more than anything in the world to Eddie. 

His fingers are still buried inside Buck’s scorching body, and when he makes to pull away, Buck’s muscles clench around him. He probably doesn’t even know he’s doing it, so blissed out his eyes are still shut as he tries to catch his breath, but that just makes the movement, a small silent plea, that much hotter. Heat flares in Eddie’s chest, and suddenly just seeing Buck unravel isn’t enough. 

He wants to feel all of him. Wants to bask in Buck’s very core. 

“Can you stand?” Eddie asks, his fingers slipping from Buck’s hole. 

Buck whines and twitches, forcing his eyes open to look down at Eddie through heavy eyelids. “I…think so.” 

“Good.” Eddie pulls Buck’s jeans and boxers off his other leg then grips Buck’s elbow and helps him up. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

Buck’s blue eyes flash as if they’re glowing, and a smirk ticks up the corners of his lips. “ _Man_ , am I glad I moved out.” He stumbles as he rolls off the couch.

Eddie catches him then swats his bare bottom. The crack echoes, the sound reverberating through him, leaving his palm tingling and his blood boiling. Judging by the way Buck’s eyes darken, the guy likes a good spanking, and Eddie is a-okay with that. Eddie yanks Buck to his feet and pulls his body close, and the span of a single heartbeat passes before Buck lunges forward and claims Eddie’s lips in a searing kiss. 

Sweet press of lips. Spicy nip of teeth. Soft lick of tongue. Eddie loses himself in the intensity of Buck’s assault. Surprised he’s got so much left in him after that intense looking orgasm. They stumble down the hall, with Buck’s mouth devouring his and hands roaming under Eddie’s shirt like he’s never touched naked skin before, and fall into Buck’s waiting bedroom.

The sun has set, but the moon hangs bright in a cloudless night, her cleansing light spearing through the windows to bathe the room in a splash of silver. Eager hands pull Eddie’s shirt over his head before even more eager lips dive back to deprive Eddie of air. Not that Eddie cares. He’d give up all the oxygen in the world if it means he gets to kiss Buck just one more time. 

Buck reaches for his belt, and Eddie rears back as a small piece of his Dominant nature kicks in. As much as he loves Buck demanding and pushing for what he wants, Eddie doesn’t want this to be over embarrassingly quickly. He grips Buck’s wrists, and Buck pulls back with smouldering eyes, his expression an open canvas of want. 

“Please, Eds,” Buck moans, and when Eddie’s grip tightens around his wrists, he whimpers, “ _Sir._ ”

Eddie growls as every cell in his body vibrates with the sound of that one small word rolling from Buck’s lips. The way the blue disappears from his eyes, replaced by raw, black desire is intoxicatingly arousing, and the way his body goes lax in total surrender fires Eddie’s blood. 

He wants to possess every bit of this beautiful body. Of this beautiful man. Wants to break Buck into a million little pieces and put him back together. Wants to hear him moan and whimper and beg and scream until the universe bears witness to his pleasures. 

Fuck, Eddie wants to do so many things to Buck, and it’s so goddamn unfair that he has to choose what to do first. 

As if reading his mind, or maybe he’s just that in-tune with Eddie’s needs, Buck crawls to the head of his bed and grips the headboard, his knees spreading wide as he arches his back. His deliciously round ass raises in invitation, presenting his puckered hole, and Eddie smiles as his palm itches. 

“Cheeky little sub, aren’t you?” he says, more to himself than to Buck, and shucks the rest of his clothes before climbing onto the bed after his Submissive. “Is this what you want?” He rubs the left globe of Buck’s ass, then the right, before raising his hand and swinging it back down. 

The crack of skin against skin bounces off the walls, and Buck shudders even as he pushes his hips back, searching. “God, yes, please, again,” he begs into the meat of his shoulder. 

“Hold onto the headboard,” Eddie murmurs into Buck’s ear, his lips grazing the shell with every word. “What’s your safeword?”

“Sunflower.” 

“Use it when you need to, otherwise, not another peep out of you.” Eddie squeezes an ass cheek, then brings his palm against the supple flesh in another hard slap. 

Buck muffles his startled squeak in his arm before taking a deep, shuddering breath. Eddie gives him a moment, running his fingers lightly along the reddening skin. Even in the moonlight, the crimson print where his hand landed is stark against the pale flesh of Buck’s ass where sunlight doesn’t get to touch. Eddie likes the look of it, like a brand claiming Buck, announcing to no one and everyone that Buck is his. 

His to pleasure. His to dote on. His to punish if he sees fit.

 _Mine._ And when Buck’s breath hitches, Eddie realizes he’s said it out loud. 

Something hot and possessive bursts from his chest into his limbs until his whole body is on fire. _Crack_ , and his hand lands on the crease where thigh meets ass, a tender spot that’s got Buck mewling and trembling. His body is already covered in a sheen of sweat, and Eddie’s barely started. 

The next few minutes may as well be hours as Eddie meticulously choses every inch of skin to cover with the red hot brand of his hand. Each slap is a declaration of his love and his devotion, and Eddie wants to make sure Buck feels every sting. Feels every bit of emotion Eddie’s trying to convey through his hand, through his skin. 

His arm grows tired as he delivers each blow, but Eddie feels invigorated as he soars higher and higher. His chest is full, and it swells with Buck’s every whimper and groan. Dom space is a high he rarely gets to savour so unfettered, and he’s free because Buck has him tethered. Because it’s _Buck_ who holds the bejewelled leash to Eddie’s heart. 

By the time the echoes of the last slap fades, Eddie’s shaking with a need so driving he’s nearly sobbing with it. And Buck, his sweet, brave Buck, is hanging onto the headrest with trembling arms and desperate fingertips. But he hung on. 

Eddie drapes across Buck’s back and pries his fingers from the solid headboard, rubbing the knuckles of each hand before letting it go. “You’re so fucking perfect. So good for me. So, so good.”

Buck flops forward into the pillow, taking Eddie’s weight with him, and sighs. “Always for you, sir.” He wiggles his ass, then hisses as his hot, tender skin rubs against Eddie’s crotch. But even in that hiss is a note of something desperate. It’s the sort of desperation Eddie knows too well. 

Planting one more kiss to the nape of Buck’s neck, Eddie shoves off the bed and rummages around the floor until he finds his jeans. He pulls out his wallet from the back pocket, and from it the packet of lube and condoms. Buck rolls onto his back and watches Eddie with lust-blown eyes. His parted lips are red and glistening, and Eddie can’t help but lean down and steal another kiss as he rubs the lube packet between his palms to try warming it up. 

He rips the lube packet and squeezes half the contents onto his fingers. Buck spreads his miles and miles of long legs and scoots down, offering himself to Eddie completely and unabashedly. Eddie’s chest seizes as he takes in the beautiful man beneath him, laid out like the most elaborate banquet Eddie’s ever had, and all he has to do is reach out and claim him. 

Eddie rubs Buck’s puckered ring of muscle in a slow circle before pressing in. Heat just like he remembers envelopes his fingers, and his cock jumps in anticipation. Buck’s body is like putty, muscles so lax it takes Eddie no time to prepare him. When Eddie finally lines up his cock to Buck’s opening, when he finally sinks into all that pliant heat, the world settles on its axis as if it’s been off-kilter until this very moment. Until Eddie’s finally come home. 

And when he moves, stars explode around his vision, and he’s lost in the heat of Buck’s body. In the bump of Buck’s hard cock against his stomach. In the gasps and soft cries of Buck’s pleasure. Strong arms wrap around Eddie’s neck and pull him down, then Buck’s lips are on his, his tongue demanding entry. Eddie complies, his mouth opening just as Buck’s body is opening to his thrusts, and their tongues tangle and their breaths mingle even as their bodies become one. 

As much as Eddie wants to make this last forever, he can feel the pressure build low in his gut, feel the tight heat of Buck’s body clamp and spasm around him. He’s not going to last, but he wants— _needs—_ Buck to tip over first. He reaches under Buck and wraps his arms around his waist, lifting Buck’s ass off the bed as he snaps his hips forward, and he’s rewarded with Buck’s sweet sharp cry as Eddie finds his prostate. 

“ _Fuck—_ ” Buck keens as he jams a hand between their bodies. 

The knuckles of Buck’s hand dig into Eddie’s stomach as he fists his own cock and pumps in time with Eddie’s frenzied thrusts, and it doesn’t take long before Buck’s curses turn into an incoherent shout. His body tenses in Eddie’s arms, his back a beautiful bow of tension, and liquid fire coats Eddie’s stomach and chest. 

Buck’s ass clenches around his cock. It’s tight. So tight. Too tight. And Eddie’s breath stutters as he pushes into that tight heat one last time before his orgasm punches through him. His vision turns blinding white before everything blinks into darkness. 

Eddie’s not sure if he passed out. He’s also not sure what time it is, or how long he’s been dozing in bed with Buck’s warmth wrapped around him. 

“Do you have to go?” Buck’s sleepy voice cuts through the darkness. 

Eddie yawns, and it takes everything he has to roll away from the warm body tucked into his side. “Sorry, Ev, Carla’s not booked for an overnight today.”

“Okay.” A click, then a warm splash of lamplight bathes the room in a soft, orange glow. Eddie squints and smiles when Buck rolls back from the bedside table and buries his face into Eddie’s hip. “Ugh, so fucking bright.”

“You’re the one who turned on the light, genius.” He musses Buck’s already sex-mussed hair, rubbing sleep from his eyes with his other hand. 

“So you can see and not brain yourself trying to put on pants,” Buck retorts and nips Eddie’s thigh.

Eddie yelps and tweaks Buck’s ear before slipping off the bed in search of his discarded underwear and pants.

He should have asked Carla to stay the night, she even offered, but Eddie didn’t think things were going to turn out the way it did, and Carla’s overnights are not to be taken for granted. As much as it pains him to leave Buck now, Chris needs him more.

“Hey, Eddie?”

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Will you help me train for the CPAT?” 

Eddie’s fingers pause on his zipper, and he looks up to find Buck peering at him with one bright blue eye, the rest of his face still hidden in his cocoon of sheets. The fact Buck is asking him for help, asking for anything at all, warms his heart. “Sure. Though, judging by the look of you,” Eddie gives Buck’s naked torso an appreciative look over, “you shouldn’t have any issues.”

“Pfft.” Buck sits up and runs a hand through his messy curls, and Eddie’s cock twitches at the sight of Buck’s broad chest. “This is all for show. I don’t have the stamina to pass the test.”

Eddie waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “We’ll work on the stamina, don’t you worry.” A pillow comes flying at Eddie’s head. He dodges and laughs. “Okay, okay, in all seriousness, of course I’ll help you.”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah.” Eddie pulls on his shirt then crawls back onto the bed. “Come by the station tomorrow morning. We can get a session in before I start my shift.” 

Buck opens his mouth as if to argue. Eddie grips his face in both hands and kisses the tip of his nose, and when he pulls back, Buck’s soft smile rivals that of the warmth of the sun. “See you tomorrow, then?” 

“See you tomorrow.” 


	18. Chapter 18

Buck ducks under the barbell and squeezes his shoulder blades together, activating his upper back before touching his traps to the cool metal. Gripping the bar in both hands, he takes a deep breath, locks his core, then straightens with the loaded barbell on his shoulders. 

Four weeks ago, if someone told him he’d be back squatting his body weight in just four weeks, he would have laughed. But Eddie doesn’t fuck around when it comes to physical fitness, and under his careful assessment and the workout plan he created for Buck, Buck’s seeing incredible improvements in his overall strength and stamina. He’s still got a few weeks before his Candidate Physical Ability Test, and he’s sure he’ll be more than ready if he keeps to Eddie’s strict workout regimen and meal plan. 

He twists his grip on the bar, takes another deep breath, then lowers himself into a measured squat. Four more reps, all slow and steady with a considerable pause at the bottom, then Buck returns the bar to the squat rack with a clang. 

“Damn, Buck,” Eddie says and claps him on the shoulder as he steps away from the weight. “That’s your body weight, isn’t it? 

Buck beams and tries not to preen too much. He never knew what a sucker he was for praise from his dom until Eddie started piling it on after noticing Buck’s reactions to them. The praises come often, both verbally and physically. A “good job, babe” here and a brush of soft lips there has Buck’s head swimming even as he tries not to kill himself pumping iron. 

It’s hard not to want to push himself with Eddie’s enthusiastic encouragement, but it’s not just that. Buck can see the results in just four short weeks, can see the way his body changes and feel the shift in the way he carries himself. His back is straighter, his chest more open, and his chin lifts a little higher when he looks at himself in the mirror. 

Buck has always been careful with his body, counting his calories and watching what he eats. He does cardio four times a week and lifts weights according to _Men’s Health_. But it’s always been about how he looks for potential Dominants, never about how he feels for himself, and he’s never been as sure of his strength as he is now. Confidence is a good look on him, and that’s all thanks to Eddie. 

A warm hand squeezes the back of his neck, and Buck gravitates toward the body attached to that hand like a magnet. “Just a ten minute met-con today, then study sesh at my place?” Eddie asks.

“You sure this is how you want to spend your one day off this week? What about Christopher?” Despite the fact Buck wants nothing more than to spend the whole day with Eddie, even if it’s training for the CPAT and studying for the Firefighters Candidate Assessment, he doesn’t want to take Eddie away from spending time with his son. 

“ _Abuela'_ s got him for the day, and she gave me strict instructions to not disturb them,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I work mornings next week so I’ll get Chris every night. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well in that case, let me buy you lunch for all your trouble?” 

Eddie’s eyes darken and he leans close, too close for what Buck considers appropriate for the gym at the firehouse, but if Eddie doesn’t care, then neither does he. “I’d rather you cook me something.”

It’s not the words, but the way they’re whispered into his ear that has Buck’s heart racing, and suddenly he’s not sure if Eddie wants _food_ for lunch. He swallows and nods, not trusting his voice, and the wink Eddie drops him is down right illegal. 

The ten minute workout is short but brutal, and by the time they’re done, both Buck and Eddie are sprawled on the floor, their chests heaving as they throw each other a clumsy fist bump. Chim steps over Buck’s prone body with an amused smirk before he finds the strength in his legs to get up. 

“Shower here or at home?” Eddie asks as he pushes to his feet.

“Here,” Buck replies without missing a beat. If they shower at home, there may not be any studying happening today. As enticing as that sounds, he really doesn't want to fail the FCA and mess up his chances of recruitment for this year’s intake. 

Eddie smirks as if reading his mind, then leads the way to the shower room with a seductive saunter. Who knew his Dominant is also a goddamn tease? 

They get showered, changed, say their goodbyes, then pile into Eddie’s truck. The drive to Eddie’s is uneventful and spent in companionable silence, with Eddie’s hand on Buck’s knee and Buck’s hand over Eddie’s. It’s so mundane, and yet it’s the mundane that makes what he’s got with Eddie that much sweeter. The everyday life stuff that adds a sense of normalcy to Buck’s life that he’s never had before. Domestic bliss is also a good look on him. On _them_. 

Once they get settled in Eddie’s kitchen, Buck prepares a chicken salad with apple slices, avocado chunks, pumpkin seeds, and a homemade citrus dressing with a side of quinoa cooked in chicken stock. The amount of protein Eddie’s got him eating is daunting, but Buck’s slowly figuring out how to navigate between eating his macronutrients and still finding joy in cooking. 

“When’s your FCA again?” Eddie asks as he takes a seat at the dinner table, closing his laptop when Buck comes around with their food. 

“Next Tuesday.” Buck hands over Eddie’s plate then sits down in the spot he’s dubbed his across from Eddie. “It’s all happening so fast.” 

“Some guys wait a whole year before they can even get their foot in the door.”

“I know. That’s what makes this even crazier.” Buck spears a piece of chicken breast on his fork and pauses. 

“Almost like it’s a sign that you should have done this ages ago.” Eddie winks, then digs into his salad with gusto. “Christ, if I knew eating healthy can taste this good I would have gotten you on this train ages ago.” 

Buck blushes and jams his chicken in his mouth. His first reaction is to downplay how good this is, but he’s done downplaying himself and his abilities. It _is_ damn good chicken, brined and seasoned and cooked to perfection so that it’s tender and juicy. The dressing is bright and refreshing, with a burst of sweetness from the citrus, but not overpowering. 

“Thanks,” he says instead and doesn’t miss the affection and pride flashing in Eddie’s eyes. 

“So,” Eddie says between bites of salad. “How much of this guide have you gone through already?” He points at the training guide Buck received when he attended his first session for the FCA. 

“Uh, I’ve read it twice now.”

Eddie’s fork pauses on its way to his mouth and his eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”

Buck shrugs and swallows before answering, “Yeah. Not like I got much else to do now that I’ve cut my hours at the community centre to prepare for all this.” 

“Still! Buck you’re gonna nail this, I just know it.” 

Buck smiles and diverts his eyes back to his half finished salad. He hasn’t only read the training guide twice over cover to cover, he’s also gone online and found all the tutorials and test questions he can find and did those as well. 

The test has five sections. The first four are watch-the-scenario-and-answer-questions, which Buck is confident he’ll be fine because he’s practically memorized all the course material. The fifth portion is what worries him. It’s a background information survey where he has to answer questions describing personal experiences and work preferences in certain situations. 

What experience does he have in firefighting? In stressful situations? In playing in a Dominant’s world as a Submissive? What if he answers wrong and this is it? The end of his firefighting career before it even started all because of his biology? 

The thought of that rankles, and suddenly the chicken tastes like ash. He can train twice as hard and study twice as long, but can he beat his biology? Can he really don the uniform of a firefighter and live up to the expectations? 

Those are questions he doesn’t dare dwell on, but as the FCA draws closer, it becomes harder and harder to ignore them. Is this all a waste of energy and money and Eddie’s time? What if he fails? Would he have the guts to try again? 

Buck doesn’t realize he’s hyperventilating until Eddie’s hand closes around his wrist, the firm grip pulling him out of his spiralling thoughts. His head snaps up, and the concern and sadness swimming in Eddie’s eyes hit Buck like a punch to the gut. 

“Hey,” Eddie whispers as if talking too loudly will spook Buck. As if he’s some delicate, frightened wild animal that needs to be handled with care. “Hey. What’s wrong, _cariño_?” 

Eddie’s thumb strokes the inside of his wrist, the touch feather-light and soothing. He watches Buck, waiting with infinite patience until Buck’s breathing calms down enough for him to test his voice. It comes out a croak, but it’s better than nothing. 

“I’m sorry.”

The thumb stops mid-stroke, and Eddie’s brows crease in a frown. “Don’t ever apologize for this. Tell me, what’s wrong?” 

Buck stares into Eddie’s honey browns, stares past the concern and into the depth of them, finding solace in their openness even as he finds strength in the pressure of Eddie’s hand around his wrist. He swallows, unsure of how to explain this ball of fear twisting in his gut, but he has to try. For Eddie. For _himself._

“I…” He takes a shuddering breath. “What if I fail, Eds? What if I’m just not cut out for this?”

“You're kidding me? You’re the most suitable person for this job I know, and I _work_ with firefighters.” Eddie’s thumb resumes its smooth stroking. 

Buck swallows. “My…experiences don’t exactly lend themselves to firefighting. The FCA, the last portion—I—”

“That kid who always worked behind Chris and I at the cooking class, his mom was always making eyes at you, what’s his name again?”

“Andrew?” 

“Yeah, Andrew. Remember that time his mom sliced her thumb open while trying to open a can of evaporated milk?”

“Uh huh?” Buck frowns. What’s Eddie getting at? 

“I wasn’t sure who was having a worse freakout, the mom or the kid, but you got in there and you calmed them both down while assessing the situation. You cleaned her up and kept Andrew distracted, all the while making sure the rest of the class continued making whatever it was we were making—”

“Cranberry and white chocolate scones.”

Eddie blinks then chuckles. “Uh, right. Scones. What I’m saying is, you’ve got this calmness about you that puts people at ease. You’re efficient, observant, and you’re not afraid to get your hands dirty. I’ve watched you work with people, Buck, and you’ve got this. You’re the real deal.” 

The sour sting of tears pricks the corners of his eyes, but Buck wills them away, not wanting to bawl in front of Eddie about this _again_. 

If years of being in foster care has taught him one thing, it was that freaking out about things outside of his control was pointless and wasted effort. It was better to observe and assess, and only take action once he had all the information. 

A calm and collected and easy kid meant less complaints and “returns,” and no matter how badly things were at one home, things could always be worse at the next one. Better the devil he knew than the one he didn’t. 

Embarrassment heats his cheeks as he realizes that what he’s doing now is exactly what he told himself to never do, freaking out about something out of his control. The questions will be what they’ll be, and the only thing Buck can do is to answer them to the best of his ability. And if Eddie thinks the best of his ability is enough, then Buck shouldn’t doubt his dom or himself. 

Buck opens his mouth to respond, to thank Eddie for shaking him from his stupid spiral, but Eddie beats him to it. 

“Wait here,” he says, and even though it’s not a command, Buck’s back straightens at Eddie’s tone. 

Eddie shoots to his feet and disappears from the kitchen, and Buck waits with bated breath, curiosity winning over all the other swirling emotions in his head. He wants to lean over and peer down the hall, but the obedient part of him forces his body to stay still. Eddie said to wait. So Buck waits. 

Minutes feel like hours, but eventually, Eddie returns, holding something behind his back in one hand and a cushion in his other. He sits back down and drops the cushion by his feet, and Buck slips into his place by his dom’s feet without urging. This is something they’ve been doing for a while now. This is something Buck knows. 

The weight of Eddie’s hand on the back of his neck smooths the remaining jitters in his limbs, and Buck sighs as he sags against Eddie’s leg, knowing Eddie doesn’t care about his posture when he’s kneeling like this. Gentle fingers knead the nape of his neck, moving up slowly until they’re buried in Buck’s hair. The soft scrape of nails against his scalp has Buck sighing again, and his eyes flutter shut as tension flows out of him with every measured breath. 

Take his Dominant to know just how to sooth him. 

Eddie takes his time scratching every inch of Buck’s scalp like he’s petting a kitten, and Buck purrs unabashedly like one, basking in the attention. His body goes lax, his muscles loose, and his mind starts to wander as subspace teases the borders of his consciousness. 

It’s been a few days since Eddie took him there, and while Buck’s not itching for it yet, it’s still nice to feel its pull as he sinks like a pebble into the bottom of a lake. He’s not sure how long Eddie keeps him here, grounded and tethered yet free, but when that reassuring hand lifts from his head, Buck’s not afraid anymore. 

He looks up, gratitude flowing out of him in waves, and Eddie’s smile rivals that of the sun. 

“Are you still with me?” Eddie asks, voice tender like a summer’s breeze. 

“Hmm.” 

“Good, I got something for you.” 

Eddie places a large black velvet box on the table, and Buck’s chest swells. He can guess what it is, but doesn’t dare make a move, a noise, take a breath, even, as Eddie opens the lid. Nestled inside a bed of navy blue silk are two collars. 

The larger of the two is made of gleaning black leather, about an inch thick, with electric blue stitching along the top and bottom edges. A thick, silver ring hangs heavy from the front, the metal winking at him in the afternoon sunlight. 

Tucked inside that collar is another thinner, more inconspicuous collar of braided brown and black leather held closed by a brushed nickel clasp. The design is elegant and reminds Buck of something celtic, and it’s breathtaking. 

Eddie reaches into the box and picks up the braided leather collar with reverent hands, lowering it for Buck to see. “You like it?”

Buck tries to speak, but his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth, which is so dry it might as well be a desert in there. He nods, his eyes darting between Eddie and the offered collar. Eddie breathes out a small sigh, and his shoulders sag as if in relief. 

“Thank fuck,” Eddie says with a chuckle and holds the collar out closer to Buck. 

Buck takes collar and runs his fingers across the intricate braiding, and a mix of inexplicable feelings bubble to the surface. Amusement? Awe? Gratefulness? Fear? Do doms usually care if their subs like their collars? Buck’s never been offered one, having never meant anything more than a play thing to any of his past doms. And even if they did, Buck would have never let them collar him. 

A collar is so much more than a strip of leather around his throat. It’s total surrender of body and soul, and Buck would be Eddie’s completely, legally, for Eddie to do with as he pleases. While the idea of that thrills Buck, the practicality of it terrifies him. He knows Eddie would never ask him to give up his individuality or his autonomy, but the implications of this little strip of leather still knocks the breath from his lungs. 

He looks up with a frown. “Eddie, are you—” 

“It’s not a proposal if that’s what you’re worried about,” Eddie blurts, and his cheeks flush crimson as his gaze darts between the collar and Buck. “Not that I wouldn’t want the contract. This isn’t—fuck, I’m so bad at this. I’m not asking you to sign anything, you know I’d never do that, but you’re not allowed to bring any personal items into the exam room, and this is something no one can take away from a Submissive unless the sub or dom wills it.” 

Eddie takes the collar from Buck and fiddles with the clasp, opening and closing it over and over, and his hands shake. “This isn’t official, and it never has to be if you don’t want it, but I figure this is one way I can be in the room with you. And it’s just the day collar. I would never put the other one on you and expect you to go into public and—you know what? It’s a stupid idea. I’m sorry.” Eddie makes to throw the collar back in the box, but Buck’s hand shoots out and grasps Eddie’s forearm. 

“Wait.” He takes the collar from Eddie and chews on his bottom lip. 

Eddie bought the collars for him, has had them for God knows how long, and if this isn’t a declaration of his commitment to Buck, then he doesn’t know what is. Some Dominants collar subs willy-nilly, but Eddie doesn’t seem like the type, and Buck finds he doesn't mind the idea of being Eddie’s officially. 

He’s always been careful of people knowing he’s a sub because he’d been taken advantage of before, but he wants to step into the world as a claimed sub. As _Eddie’s_ sub, and the world can judge and scrutinize and none of that would matter. 

Eddie wants to be there for him, to keep him tethered, to be his rock and his Dominant even if he can’t physically be there. Even when Buck has to fly solo, and isn’t that what this collar is all about? A physical manifestation and declaration of their bond? 

“I want it,” Buck declares and looks up to find Eddie’s eyes pinned on him. “I want to know that you’re always with me. I want the weight of this collar around my neck when your hand can’t be.” Buck opens the clasp and holds the collar to Eddie in both hands. “I’m yours, Eddie, and I want you to lay claim to me.” 

Eddie’s Adam’s apple bobs, and if his eyes are red and swimming with tears, Buck doesn’t say anything. He lays the collar in Eddie’s hand, then extends his neck toward his Dominant like an offering. 

Usually, Buck would avert his gaze and stare at the floor as a show of respect, but that’s a tradition of old and he doesn’t think Eddie would want that. Instead, he keeps his eyes locked on Eddie’s, and when Eddie’s lips curl in a proud little smile, something clicks and settles in Buck’s chest. 

The leather is cool against his heated skin, and it takes Eddie’s trembling fingers a few tries to close the clasp. The collar settles at the base of Buck’s neck. It weighs next to nothing physically, but to Buck, it may as well be a lead necklace. 

That buzzing under his skin whenever Eddie’s not touching him dissipates like smoke in a hurricane, and tranquility like he’s never experienced settles over him. The room comes into sharp focus as if he’s been living underwater his whole life. It’s like magic, no, it _is_ magic. There’s no other way to explain this, and Buck’s too damn content to try. 

Eddie sits straighter and gasps, his fingers touching his throat as if tracing an invisible collar. “ _Tan lindo, cariño._ ”

And when he leans down to kiss Buck, the world explodes in vivid colour. 

===

Buck walks into the FCA examination center with a stampede of buffalo in his gut. 

He’s as prepared as he’ll ever be, with Eddie grilling him everyday for the past week, throwing real life situations on top of the practice exam questions, and Buck answered them all correctly without hesitation. And as for the fifth portion of the test, he’ll just have to answer truthfully and hope that his experiences are enough. 

The foyer is swimming with fit, young men in skin tight t-shirts and a few women too. Some of them strut around as if they own the place, while others take up a corner somewhere with their noses buried in the training guide. There’s a sort of wild energy bouncing in the room as if everyone’s a live wire and catastrophic things will happen if they accidentally cross paths. 

Buck scans the room and swallows as he finds no one else wearing a collar or even a bracelet, the even more discreet indication of a claimed sub. He reaches up and touches the warm strip of leather sitting against the base of his throat, like he’d done a million times that morning, and finds a small sliver of solace in the smoothness of it. 

A few pairs of eyes turn his way and widen when the men notice the collar around his neck. Some turn away with a shrug, some with disgust, and one guy makes as if to lunge for Buck, but his friend holds him back with a firm grip around the bicep. 

He’s not surprised there are still traditionalists who think a sub has no place in this brotherhood, but it still makes him uneasy to be in the same space as them as if he’s intruding. 

No matter. He’s not here for them, and this is a free world now where Submissives can pursue whatever careers they want. Buck drops his hand from the collar and squares his shoulders before heading down the hallway to the left, looking for the number of his exam room. A man is stationed beside the door, and he stops Buck with an outstretched hand. 

“Are you here for the FCA?”

Buck nods. “Yup.”

“Registration please.” 

Buck hands him the information he printed beforehand and waits as the man matches his number to a list on his tablet. “To refresh the rules. You’re not allowed any electronic devices, time keeping devices, personal items, or good luck charms into the exam room.”

“Ah, yup,” Buck says and holds out the hem of his t-shirt. “As per regulation, all I got with me is the shirt on my back and my pants and underwear.”

The man chuckles and makes to wave him through when his eyes land on the collar around Buck’s neck, and the warmth of camaraderie fades from his cold blue eyes. “What the hell’s that?” He points at the collar. 

Buck reaches up to touch the smooth leather even as his gut twists and a wave of nausea washes over him. There’s no way the guy doesn’t recognize a Submissive’s collar, or is he so shocked that a sub would ever attempt the FCA that he’s thrown off? Not that it matters, Buck’s not going to hide what this is either way. “It’s my collar.”

“Collar? As in you’re a fucking sub?” he spits, and the profanity stings like a slap to the face. 

Buck squares his shoulders and pulls to his full height, which is a good towering six inches over the asshole, and says with frost in his voice. “I’m a Submissive, yes, and this is my dom’s collar.”

The guy runs a hand through his hair and mutters something under his breath. Buck doesn’t need to hear it to have an inkling of what he’s saying, and despite the weight of Eddie’s collar, despite the love and support he has from the Dominants and Neutrals of the one-eighteen, it still fucking hurts to be treated like he’s sub-human in front of a crowd. 

“Well, I can’t stop you from going in there,” he says with a nasty sneer, his eyes raking down Buck in a way that makes Buck’s skin crawl. “But you can’t bring personal items in there, so the collar comes off.”

Everyone knows no one can remove a sub’s collar except for himself or his dom, and this guy is no exception. Buck swallows his shocked disgust and frowns, his fingers closing around the thin leather and gripping it as if it’s the only thing keeping him standing. Behind him, a line has formed. People are watching with thinly disguised disinterest, and the lunging man from the foyer glares at him with cool smugness. 

“You know I can’t do that. It’s against the law to forcibly remove a sub’s collar.”

“I don’t give a flying damn about the law. It used to be against the law for your lot to even set foot in here.” He crosses his arms and stares Buck down, and Buck’s as sure as he knows that pig’s shit stinks that this jackass is a Dominant. “Collar off, or you miss your exam. Not that it’ll be much of a loss to—”

“What seems to be the hold-up here, Paul?” A large man carrying a clipboard pushes to the front of the line and looks from Buck to Paul. 

“He’s trying to bring personal items into the exam room.” Paul points at Buck’s collar with a dismissive finger. 

The newcomer looks at the collar and frowns. “That’s a collar. You can’t make a sub remove his collar. Besides, there’s no way he can use that to cheat.” 

Paul’s face turns so red so quickly it would be comical if Buck isn’t hanging on by a damn thread. “But—”

“Let the man through,” the guy says, and despite his amicable smile, there's ice in his flashing hazel green eyes. “The line’s getting long and the exam’s about to start.”

Paul looks like he wants to argue, but one more frigid glare from the other man shuts him up. He waves Buck through, and the man follows him into the room filled with rows and rows of computers. 

“Hey, thanks, man.” Buck turns and holds his hand out to the stranger. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” the guy takes his hand in a warm and firm handshake. “You may hate my guts in four hours.”

“And why is that?” 

“I’m your examiner. Name’s Clif. Nice to meet you, uh—”

“Evan Buckley, but you can call me Buck.” Buck hopes his surprise isn’t too evident in his face. 

“Well, Buck, this is your station,” Clif says as he jots down the number of the computer station Buck is standing by. “Good luck.”

Buck takes a seat and watches as more guys file into the room, and when his eyes meet Clif’s as he directs more candidates to their seats, the man winks at him with a nod. 

Times are definitely changing, and Buck deserves to be here, just like the rest of them. He touches his collar one last time as the last man sits down at a computer station and Clif walks to the front of the room. 

“All right, candidates, this is how this will go down.”

_Bring it._


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's midnight on Thursday, I figure why not just post it now XD! So here's the next chapter 8 hours earlier than usual!!!

Eddie slams his truck door shut with more force than necessary and storms toward the firehouse. The parking lot and fire building are empty, and the truck and ambulance are missing from the garage. Eddie’s glad no one is around to see him as he stomps to the fishbowl change room. He’s early for his shift, having come straight from dropping Chris off at school, and the jackass giving him guff about parking in the handicapped spot didn’t help his agitation one little bit. 

It’s been four weeks since Buck started his accelerated EMT program. Four weeks of late-night phone calls and last-minute text messages. Four long, arduous weeks where he hasn’t seen or touched his sub, and the strain of missing Buck bleeds into his everyday life like a greasy ink splotch. 

Eddie’s been without a sub for prolonged periods of time before, and he had a good handle on his urges. Even when he was deployed and away from Shannon, who was his collared sub then, he found ways to distract himself and keep the agitation at bay. 

Not so much with Buck. 

He misses Buck like his lungs miss air under water. Like a physical ache that burrows deep into his bones and sits there to remind him, every passing minute, that Buck isn’t with him. That Buck is somewhere fending for himself against God knows what sort of awful, judgemental people in a classroom filled predominantly, if not completely, with Dominants. 

When Buck told him about the incident at the FCA, Eddie’s blood boiled and he had half a mind to track down the asshole and teach him a lesson in Dominant etiquette with his fist. The guy obviously needs a refresher since his etiquette class in high school. Only Buck’s smug face when he told Eddie about his examiner, Clif, and the soothing hand Buck had on his forearm calmed him enough to think rationally. 

Eddie knew the risks of collaring Buck while he’s going through the application process, but he didn’t think it would be so horrendously violating. And maybe that’s the problem, being a Dominant, he never given much thought to the everyday life of a sub and the bullshit they must put up with from overbearing and entitled doms. Once or twice, Eddie thought maybe he shouldn’t have given Buck that collar, but one look at Buck’s face when he absentmindedly strokes the braided leather dashes that away. 

Buck loves his collar. 

Thoughts of Buck leave his hands trembling, and Eddie curls them into fists as he closes his eyes and counts backwards from a hundred, a trick that used to work when his dom urges became too much. There are four more weeks of EMT school left, but Eddie may have to beg Buck to come over even if it’s for a few hours. Just so Eddie can see him and touch him and kiss him because he may not last another week without his Submissive’s warmth and his sweet smile. 

A shaft of guilt spears through Eddie, and he growls in frustration. Buck hasn’t even come to the station to make Sunday dinners these past four weeks, being so swamped with school work, and here Eddie wants to take up his precious time to, what, cuddle and soothe his poor, Dominant sensibilities? 

_ Christ, Diaz. Get your shit together _ . 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and Eddie takes another deep, shuddering breath before fishing it out. Buck’s shit-eating grin flashes on the screen, and that red haze of disgust recedes from Eddie’s vision, replaced by a golden warmth that spreads from his chest to his limbs and puts a smile on his face. He hits the green answer button and brings the phone to his ear. 

“Hey, babe,” he says, thanking his stars his voice doesn’t betray just how frayed around the edges he is. 

“Hey,” Buck replies. His voice is thin and distorted by the speaker, but Eddie doesn’t care as he presses the phone closer. “What’re you up too?”

“Just got to the station. I don’t start for another hour though.”

Buck huffs a relieved breath. “Perfect. Can you talk right now?”

Eddie frowns. “Yeah,  _ cariño.  _ What’s up?” 

“Nothing much. Just miss you,” Buck replies, his voice soft and full of longing. “Miss Christopher too. How’s he doing?”

Eddie swallows and sinks onto the bench in the locker room, his shoulders sagging. “Chris is good. He and Carla look for recipes on Google now, and then they send me a shopping list every day so I can pick up groceries on my way home.”

“That’s fantastic! You’re getting fed, then?”

“Oh yeah. So much so I’ve started clocking in more time at the gym.” Eddie nods and smiles even though Buck can’t see him. “One does not say no to dessert when his son slaves all afternoon making it.”

Buck laughs, and the sound is throaty and contagious as it passes through the speaker to swirl in Eddie’s chest. “Glad to hear he’s continuing to explore even when I can’t be there.” 

“You’ve created a monster,” Eddie says. “A monster who feeds his useless father every day.”

“Hey,” Buck chides. “You’re not useless. You’re the best guinea pig a boy can ask for.”

“Whoa, is that all I am to you guys?”

“Well, you’re not a chore to look at either, so you got that going for you too.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, and he feels lighter than he has in days. “Jeez, thanks.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, and although Buck is not here physically, just knowing they’re tethered through this phone call eases the ever-present buzz of agitation under Eddie’s skin. The sound of his voice, however, also widens the chasm inside Eddie’s chest where Buck’s physical presence fills. What Eddie wouldn’t give to lay eyes on Buck, to caress his skin and kiss his plump lips, but he can’t, so he’ll have to settle for whatever comfort modern technology can provide. 

He glances at the clock hanging in the change room. It’s only been ten minutes since he got here, but it feels like a lifetime has passed. Even time loses meaning when he’s missing Buck this much, and he’d find himself pathetic if it doesn’t hurt so damn much. 

“Eddie?” Buck’s voice drifts through. 

“Yeah?”

“There’s something else I wanted to tell you.”

Eddie shits straighter. “Shoot.”

“I got my FCA scores.”

Eddie’s back goes ramrod straight. “And?” 

A pause. 

Another pause. 

Eddie opens his mouth, but Buck beats him to the punch.

“Fucking nailed it.”

A lungful of air he didn’t know he was holding whooshes out of him in a relieved chuckle. “You couldn’t have led with that?” 

“But where’s the fun in that?”

“Jackass. You’re gonna pay for that.”

The pause that follows is pregnant with a different sort of tension. 

“Counting on it, sir.” 

And there it is, that ache of missing Buck returns to punch Eddie in the gut. He inhales deeply, schools his emotions, and wets his lips before saying, “I’ll punish you when I see fit, and not a second sooner.”

“Yes sir,” Buck replies without missing a beat, though his voice has gone an octave lower and much, much huskier.

Eddie tries to ignore the flutter in the pit of his stomach. “That aside, we should celebrate.” He has noticed Buck’s penchant for reward, and Eddie’s more than happy to pile it on if it makes his sub happy. “Anything you want, just name it.”

Another pause, this one long and punctuated by bursts of huffed breaths as if Buck’s working up the courage to say something. Eddie clutches the phone to his ear and waits, unwilling to make even the smallest noise that could spook Buck. 

The silence stretches like taffy, and Eddie grows light-headed as he holds his breath, and just when he wonders if the call dropped, Buck’s soft, timid voice comes through. “There’s, ah, there is something I’d like, actually.”

“Oh?” 

“It’s—well—”

“Buck, spit it out. Please.”

“Fuck, okay, I—” Buck clears his throat. “I want to hear you jerk off at the station.” A second later. “For me.” 

Eddie’s eyes pop so wide he’s afraid they may fall out of his head. “Come again?”

“I mean—actually never mind. It’s stupid, and I don’t want you getting into trou—”

“Buck,” Eddie whispers as if the walls have ears. “Buck, is that really what you want?” 

Eddie can almost see the blush colouring Buck’s cheeks and the tips of his ears when he mutters, “Yes sir. It is.” 

Eddie checks the time again. He’s got another thirty minutes before his shift starts, and the overnight crew’s still out. He’s never done it as a firefighter, but it wouldn’t be his first time rubbing one out on the job. When he was deployed and stuck in a tent with twenty other guys, sometimes the only chance he gets for some self-love is in the bathroom while on the clock. 

And Buck so rarely asks for things that Eddie never wants to say no. Never wants to make Buck feel silly for making a request. The idea that Buck wants to hear him jerk off combined with the fear of getting caught fills his cock, and before he talks himself out of it, Eddie shoots to his feet and jogs toward the bathroom. 

“Wait,” he commands and grins at the audible gasp from the other end of the line.

He pushes through the bathroom door and darts into the last stall, locking the door with adrenaline-fuelled fingers. He unbuckles his belt and wrestles the button and zipper open with his free hand, licks the palm of said hand, and reaches down his boxer briefs to grasp his rock-hard cock. “Okay, _cariño_ , just for you.” 

“Oh my god you’re actually doing it,” Buck breathes, and Eddie can just make out the soft clink of something metallic from the other end of the line. 

Eddie drops his head back against the door and strokes down his shaft, giving the head a twist and a squeeze. “Fuck,” he mutters into the phone and exhales a soft moan. This is nothing like when he used to jerk off in a Porta Potty in some remote base in the middle of nowhere, where he without an audience. 

Knowing Buck is on the line, knowing he’s probably got his hand down his pants fondling himself to the sound of Eddie pleasuring himself is a whole new level of turn-on Eddie didn’t know possible. His heart pounds against his ribcage as he squeezes the base of his cock before stroking back down along the shaft, gathering the pre-come that’s already blurting out of him in thick globs. 

“Baby, you listening to this?” he asks, his eyes fluttering shut as he imagines Buck right here with him. Imagines Buck’s bright blue eyes trained on him, his pink lips plump and moist and parted as he takes Eddie in. The pre-come adds a delicious slickness as he strokes along his cock, but it’s still just this side of too dry. Eddie spits into his cupped palm before resuming his stroking, and the slick slurp of skin dragging along skin echoes in the small stall. “You hear that? You hear how wet my cock is for you?”

From the other side, Buck’s breath hitches, and he hisses a soft “fuck yes” just as Eddie lets out a groan. 

“God, I wish this was your hand stroking me,” Eddie mutters into the phone. “Wish you were here on your knees, your lips wrapped around my cock.” A strangled moan drifts from the other end. “I want to fuck your throat, Evan. Want to shove my cock so far down you see stars. You know how pretty you look with your lips wrapped around my dick? Those gorgeous fucking blues staring up at me?” 

“Christ—” 

Eddie swallows and strokes faster, his hand taking on a life of its own as he visualizes every filthy thing he’s uttering to Buck. His breathing is shallow, and his chest heaves as if he’s running a marathon. “When I see you next, you’ll drop to your knees for me like the good little sub that you are, and you’re going to open wide for your dom. You’re going to take everything I give you and you’re gonna thank me for it. Thank me for every breath and every tear that spring to your pretty eyes.” The last few words come out as a growl as Eddie’s hand strokes in a blur, his forearms burning. 

“And when you think you’ve reached your limit, you’re gonna take a little more because I know you, Buck, I know you can take anything and everything I give you.” 

“P-please—” Buck gasps, and the desperation in his voice thrills through Eddie. “I’m—Eddie—”

“Don’t you fucking dare come,” Eddie snarls even as his balls draw close to his body, his release imminent. “You come when I tell you.”

“Yes sir,” comes Buck’s raspy reply. “Please, sir.”

“I wanna come all over your face, Buck. Wanna see you dripping and begging for a taste.” The mental image of his come splashed across Buck’s eager face is Eddie’s undoing, and his cock pulses and swells in his hand. “Fuck, baby, come. Come for me.” 

Buck’s sharp inhale is the only warning Eddie has before Buck’s drawn-out groan echoes in his ear. His voice fades on a gasp that sounds suspiciously like Eddie’s name, and that’s all it takes to tip Eddie down the abyss. His cock pulses hot and heavy, and Eddie brings the phone to his lips so Buck can hear his every gasping breath and whispered curse, hoping that this is exactly what Buck wanted. 

It’s another few seconds of erratic heartbeats and raspy breaths before Eddie collects his wits about him, and the first thing he does is stay stock still and listen for any voices or footsteps. Hearing none, he lets out a slow breath and sags back against the door. 

“I can’t believe I did that,” he whispers with a chuckle. Carefully avoiding smearing come on his pants, Eddie reaches for some toilet paper with his come-covered hand and cleans up as he waits for Buck’s breathing to even out. 

“That was—just—whoa,” Buck breathes, his husky voice filled with awe. 

“Was that what you wanted?” Eddie teases as he tries and fails to button his pants with one hand. 

“So much more.” Buck’s contented sigh is contagious, and Eddie lets out his own huff of breath. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Eddie wets his chapped lips with a swipe of his tongue and finds the buzzing agitation that’s been driving him nuts all but gone, replaced by a calm he didn’t know he missed. “And congrats, Ev. Proud of you.” 

Eddie doesn’t miss the quiet, sharp intake of breath, and for the millionth time this week, he wishes he could pull Buck into his arms and kiss his insecurities away. He opens his mouth, but the clang of the garage opening sends a fresh jolt of adrenaline through his bloodstream. 

“Oh, shit,” he mutters and wedges his phone between his ear and shoulder, scrambling to button his pants. “The guys are back. I gotta go.” 

“Crap, okay, go go go,” Buck urges, and Eddie can hear the amusement in his voice. Cheeky bastard. “Want me to come over tonight?” 

Eddie’s frantic fingers freeze on his fly, and his heart does a somersault. “Yeah? You’re not too busy?”

“I think I can take one night off. Besides, I miss you and Christopher.”

“Sounds like a plan.” The voices grow louder and Eddie swallows as he peers through the crack in the bathroom stall. No one’s in here yet, but that’s going to change very soon. “Love you, babe. See you tonight.”

“Love you too,” comes Buck’s reply, then the line goes dead. 

===

The day drags on and on and on, or maybe it just seems slow because Eddie’s mind always wanders back to the events of this morning whenever they’re not responding to a call. There’s something deliciously devious about what Buck asked of him, and honestly, Eddie didn’t know he had it in him to give it to Buck until he was halfway to finishing. It’s one thing to have phone sex with his boyfriend, but another to do it while hiding in the bathroom at his place of work. 

They hung up just as two  guys banged into the bathroom, and Eddie hid in the stall until they left before slinking out with burning cheeks. He’s still not sure if he’s more mortified about almost being caught or more turned on by almost being caught. Regardless, he’s a vibrating mess waiting for his shift to end because Buck’s coming over tonight. 

“You know if you keep smiling like that your face is gonna get stuck,” Chim says as he throws a balled up napkin at Eddie. “Did you win the lottery or something?”

Eddie ducks and picks up the tissue, throwing it in the garbage bin behind him. “Buck’s coming over tonight.”

Chim cocks a brow at him. “Buck? Who’s that? Don’t know anyone named Buck. Do you?” He turns to Hen with an exaggerated shrug and Hen snorts. 

“I think we used to know someone named Buck,” Hen says, playing along. “Then he stopped coming around.”

Eddie kicks Chim’s chair and rolls his eyes. “Don’t be dicks.”

“How is he, anyway?” Hen asks, taking a seat next to Eddie at the large dining room table, a mug of steaming coffee in her hand. 

“Busy. I haven’t seen him in four weeks.” 

She looks taken aback, her brows shooting north. “That explains so much.” Eddie glowers at her, and her grin is filled with shark teeth. “My point.”

Eddie ignores her jab and slouches further in his chair. “He passed the FCA though.”

“Yeah?” Chim pipes up, his smile genuine. “That’s fantastic! Maybe we shou—”

The alarm blares and drowns out Chim’s words. The three of them shoot to their feet and rush down the stairs to the lower engine bay, their chit chat forgotten. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since my Friday mornings are now spent chasing after my kiddo thanks to quarantine, I think it's safer to just post a few hours before midnight on Thursday. Otherwise I may forget to post completely 8D...so please enjoy!

The soft jangle of keys from the other side of the front door pulls Buck from the study guide he's reading. He looks up just as Carla snaps her book shut. 

“That must be Eddie,” she says as she pushes to her feet, already reaching for her purse on the coffee table. 

“Wait, you’re leaving already?” 

Buck arrived at Eddie’s just as Carla and Christopher got home from school. After Christopher finished his homework, he and Buck made a delicious dinner of carbonara and a huge garden salad with mixed greens, cucumbers, tomatoes, grated carrots, and sliced grapes. After dinner and a movie, Carla and Buck tucked Christopher into bed, then they hung out in companionable silence in the living room, each lost in their own world. 

Carla pauses and turns around to stare at him like he just grew a second head. “Eddie hasn’t seen you in four weeks. If you think I’m gonna stick around for this reunion, then you got another thing coming for ya, boy.”

Buck groans, his cheeks heating at Carla’s suggestive eyebrow waggle. She’s got a point. It’s been four bloody weeks of textbooks and study guides and mock exams, and although the mundane nature of studying keeps him from crawling out of his skin, Buck’s barely holding his sub needs at bay. Between the demands of his EMT classes and Eddie’s ever shifting work schedule, they’re like two ships passing in the night, and the lack of physical connection is killing him. 

The call this morning took the edge off, but it also reinforced just how much Buck needs to see Eddie, and judging by the way Eddie sounded on the phone, he misses Buck too. Buck dumps his books onto the coffee table and hops to his feet, giving Carla a hug before following her to the front door just as Eddie shuts it behind him. 

“You’re leaving already?” Eddie asks Carla, but Buck doesn’t miss the way his gaze drifts to Buck. 

“I got a date with my cat and a bottle of Malbec and the new episode of  _ Supernatural,”  _ she replies with a wide, knowing smile.

Eddie clears his throat and kisses her on the cheeks. “Thanks for looking after Chris. Drive safe.”

“He’s a gem, and I will. You boys have a good night.” She waves at them, reaches for the door knob, and with one last devious smirk, steps out into the night and pulls the door shut behind her. 

Buck wipes his sweaty palms down the sides of his jeans and shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his mouth suddenly dry as he waits for Eddie to kick off his boots. It’s only been four weeks, but it feels like a lifetime has passed since he last laid eyes on Eddie. 

He’s still striking and handsome as hell—albeit a bit haggard after a long shift—with his chiseled jawline and tall, proud nose. His hair is longer than Buck remembers, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It throws off a I’m-in-a-band-bad-boy vibe that Buck finds incredibly sexy. Eddie’s forearms shift as he takes off his jacket, revealing the tight t-shirt that hugs him deliciously across the chest and shoulders. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but no one warned Buck that it also makes his boyfriend ten times hotter than he already is. 

Buck waits for Eddie to hang up his jacket and drop his keys on the table by the front door. His movements are jerky, and his eyes are missing their usual spark as if a shadow’s hanging over him, blocking out his shine. The silence between them is loaded, and when Eddie looks up, their locked eyes charge the space around them. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, his voice tight, and Buck goes on full alert.

He eats the distance between them in hurried strides and crowds into Eddie’s personal space. “Baby, what’s wrong?” 

Eddie looks up at him for a long, heavy moment, then brushes his lips across Buck’s before taking his hand. “Let’s talk in the living room.” 

Buck lets himself be led down the short hallway and into the warmly lit living room. Eddie sits down where Buck recently vacated on the couch, and Buck pulls a cushion to the floor before dropping to his knees beside Eddie. Not that Eddie asked him to, but he knows Eddie finds as much comfort in Buck kneeling by his feet as Buck does, and right now, Eddie looks like he could use a little comfort. 

Eddie sighs, and the sound carries more weight than Buck cares to measure. A large hand lands on the back of Buck’s head, fingers threading through his hair, and finally,  _ finally,  _ Buck breathes easy for the first time in four weeks. They sit like this for a long moment, until the silence between them grows comfortable, until tension makes way for contented sighs as Eddie massages Buck’s scalp. 

The room fades away, leaving behind a bubble that ensconces them in tranquility. Buck lays his head on Eddie’s thigh, nuzzling the worn denim occasionally so he can inhale the faint scent of detergent still lingering in the fibres. He wants to ask what’s got Eddie so bummed, but his curiosity can wait until Eddie’s ready.

It’s another long moment of lazy head scratches before Eddie’s hand stills on the nape of his neck, and Buck looks up with a smile. “Missed you.”

Eddie stares down at him with half lidded eyes, and that shadow hanging over him seems to have receded some. “Missed you too.”

“Now, tell me what’s got you so upset.” 

Eddie swallows and closes his eyes, and the pained lines between his brows return. He’s quiet for so long Buck wonders if he will actually tell him what happened when he says, “Got a call right before my shift ended.”

“A bad one, huh?”

Eddie’s eyes flutter open and his honey browns are filled with sadness and guilt. “It was the community center.”

Buck freezes as his chest constricts with a surge of dread. “What?”

“Yeah. From your classroom.” 

It’s as if someone plucked the air right out of his lungs. His classroom. The room he specifically requested when they renovated the community center so he can show kids the joys of cooking. And the new teacher, oh God. “Was—shit, is anyone—”

“No one’s seriously injured.” Eddie hurries to reassure him, and his grip on Buck’s neck tenses. “Only a handful of students and their parents and the new teacher were there when something exploded at the front of the classroom.” 

“Exploded?”

Eddie leans over and pulls Buck off the cushion and into his lap, arranging Buck’s legs on either side of his hips. “The police are investigating. The cooking classes are temporarily suspended until they figure out what caused it. We got there just in time to get everyone out with some minor burns and scratches. Except the new teacher. She was knocked unconscious but her vitals were strong when the EMTs rushed her off to the hospital. ”

“Fuck," Buck grits as rocks hit the bottom of his stomach. "Thank God you guys got there in time.” He doesn't want to think about what could have happened to Nelly, the new teacher, and to the rest of the building and the people in it if the gas pipes ignited. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck and clings to him, seeking comfort as much as he’s giving it. 

What could have caused the explosion? Everything they installed was to code and passed safety inspection, and Buck knows the city didn’t cut corners when they renovated the whole building. Was it human error? But what could the new teacher possibly have been doing in there to cause an explosion? He wants to ask, but would Eddie tell him anything? Could he even if he knew? 

Maybe Buck can call his supervisor at the community center tomorrow and see if he has any answers. 

“I’m just glad it wasn’t you in there, Buck,” Eddie murmurs into the crook of Buck’s neck, and Buck’s heart skips a beat. “I don’t know if I can survive dragging you out of a fire a second time.” 

Eddie’s trembling, his whole body plastered against Buck’s as if he’s trying to absorb Buck into him. His arms are locked around Buck’s torso, muscles rigid as he clutches Buck to him, and the ferocity of his grip squeezes the air from Buck’s lungs. Buck doesn't mind, though, and tightens his arms around Eddie’s neck, wanting to let his dom and boyfriend know that he’s here, that he’s safe, and that he’s not going anywhere. 

It never occurred to him that Eddie may still be hung up on rescuing Buck from the fire at Maddie’s apartment. Never occurred to him to even ask because Eddie’s always been his rock, solid and stoic and always there when Buck needs him. He’s grown so comfortable leaning on Eddie he’s forgotten that it’s his job, too, to check on Eddie. To make sure he's okay both mentally and physically. He’s been so wrapped upon his own stuff, training for the CPAT, studying for the FCA, and now EMT classes, that he’s forgotten about Eddie’s needs. 

Christ, and Buck prides himself on being a good sub. 

He shifts in Eddie’s lap, but Eddie’s arms clamp around him tighter and Buck stills. He runs his fingers through Eddie’s hair, brushing the strands from his forehead before cupping his cheeks in both hands and tilting his face up until their eyes lock. 

“I’m right here, Eds. Safe, in one piece, and missing the hell out of my boyfriend,” Buck whispers and tries to inject as much love into his voice as he can. Eddie takes a shuddering breath and searches Buck’s face with red-rimmed eyes. Buck leans down until Eddie’s lips are hovering just out of reach. “Can I kiss you?” 

Eddie swallows, and for a second it seems to Buck like he’s going to say no, but Eddie surges forward just as Buck pulls away, and their lips clash in a desperate kiss. Eddie moans, his mouth hot and demanding as he devours Buck with a wild abandon that startled Buck. He’s always so in control, but this kiss is anything but as a quivering tongue seeks entry into Buck’s mouth. 

Buck opens to him, surrendering in a way he knows Eddie wants— _ needs— _ from him _. _ Eddie explores his mouth like it’s his first time, kisses him like it’s his last, and scoops Buck from the inside out until he forgets why Eddie’s kissing him like this in the first place. Large hands slip under his ass and cup his cheeks through his jeans, and before he fully processes what’s happening, Eddie’s heaved them both out of the couch. Buck wraps his legs around Eddie’s waist, and his cock rubs painfully hard against the confines of his pants as Eddie carries them down the hall toward his bedroom. 

Eddie breaks the kiss to toss Buck on the bed then crawls on after him, bullying his way between Buck’s legs before claiming his lips once more. The kiss is searing, and Buck’s tossed about in the tempest of Eddie’s unleashed desires. He’s not afraid, though, as exhilaration and the promise of one hell of a reunion thrill through him. If it takes letting Eddie thoroughly dominate and destroy him to calm down, then Buck’s more than happy to comply. More than happy to offer up his body and soul for Eddie to devour until he’s satisfied. 

Strong hands grasp Buck’s wrists and shove them above his head, trapping them as if Buck’s got plans to go somewhere, and the press of Eddie’s hard thigh against his groin borders on painful. Buck shifts, whimpering even as his body comes alive with weeks of pent-up need. Eddie’s lips trail down his jaw, and Buck throws his head back and offers his neck like a silent plea. Those hungry lips latch onto the sensitive skin of his throat and sucks along the curve of his neck, and Buck’s sure there will be bruises in the morning. 

The idea of Eddie marking him, of the physical manifestation of Eddie losing control imprinted on his skin, drives Buck’s own desires to new heights, and suddenly, he wants to hurt. Wants to feel the sting of Eddie’s hands on him. 

“Eddie,” Buck gasps. “Sir, I need—can I please—”

“No,” Eddie growls. He rears up, his nails digging into Buck’s wrists, and even this tiny, localized pain makes Buck’s cock jerk. “You don’t ask for anything tonight. You take what I give you, can you do that for me?” 

Eddie’s eyes shine like wildfire in the moonlight, but beneath the burning passion and blatant arousal is a gleam of vulnerability. They say eyes are the windows to the soul, and as Buck stares up into Eddie’s honey browns, he finds the soft, quivering core in Eddie’s centre. There’s fear and relief and love and devotion swirling in their uncharted depth, and Buck gives in to that. Gives in to his Dominant because he trusts Eddie will never do anything he’s not ready to take. 

Buck flicks his tongue across his bottom lip, enjoying the way Eddie’s eyes darken and narrow, and nods. “Yes, sir.” 

“Good boy,” Eddie replies with an accompanying nip to Buck’s collar bone. When he pulls back, his eyes dart toward the closet, and his expression is contemplative as he drums a finger against the back of Buck’s hand. “You trust me?”

“Hell yes.”

A slow smile stretches across Eddie’s lips, and he peels away from Buck’s body with a sigh that mirrors Buck’s disappointment at the loss of contact. “Get up on your knees and face the headboard. Sit on your haunches, then lock your hands behind your back.” 

Buck blinks and hesitates, but only for a second, before scrambling up and getting into position. The mattress shifts, and it’s the only indication that Eddie’s moved. Facing the headboard means he can’t see what Eddie’s doing, and the anticipation thrills through him, leaving behind gooseflesh as much as the cool air against his skin. 

Another dip of the mattress alerts him that Eddie’s back, his presence confirmed by the brush of soft lips along the back of Buck’s neck. Buck moans, his eyes flutter shut, and he shudders as Eddie dots tender kisses across his shoulders. Something smooth wraps around his wrists, and Buck’s eyes fly open. 

“Is that…”

“Mhm.” Eddie arranges Buck’s wrists until they’re crossed at the small of his back, then continues to loop smooth rope methodically up his forearm. “I’ve dreamt of seeing you tied up in my bed for so damn long, Buck. You have no idea what you do to me.”

Buck’s heart races and his breath hitches. He wants to tell Eddie that Eddie is his world, but the rope sitting snug against his skin pulls him to a place he doesn’t want to go. 

A dark room. The smell of dust. The pressure of a boot on his back. Buck shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then another. Then another. But no matter how hard he inhales, it’s not enough. Buck swallows his swelling panic and forces himself to be perfectly still. 

He’s not sixteen anymore, not helpless, and he’s not back there with  _ him _ . He’s with Eddie. Patient, gentle Eddie who treats him like an equal. Like a person worth the oxygen he inhales with every breath. He can stop this whenever he wants, all he has to do is utter “sunflower” and Eddie will cut away the rope and take him into his arms. 

But Eddie wants this from him. Wants to tie him up and use his body like it’s meant to be used. Buck wants to give himself to Eddie completely, and if this is part of what Eddie wants, then Buck will bear it. 

A warm hand lands on the back of his neck, fingers slipping beneath his leather collar, and Buck shivers. 

“Hey, Buck?” Eddie whispers in Buck’s ear. “Baby, still with me?”

Buck nods, forcing the looming dark, musty room back into the back of his mind. “Y-yeah.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Please, sir, keep going.” 

“You know your safe word?”

“Sunflower, sir.”

That warm hand trails down to rest between Buck’s shoulder blades. “Use it if you have to, okay?”

“Yes sir.” 

Pressure in the middle of his back urges Buck to lean forward, and he complies, flopping onto his front. The position forces his hips and ass up, and Buck shudders when a large hand kneads one ass cheek, then the other. Buck hides his face in the sheets, breathing in the lingering scent of Eddie’s detergent mixed with his body wash, and the smell soothes the jagged edges of his nerves. 

Eddie takes Buck’s left ankle and lifts it up until his heel rests against his upper thigh, then the soft bite of more rope drags Buck back to that dark place. 

It was so long ago he should be over it, yet every atom in his body rebels against the friction of ropes on his skin. His back tingles with the spectral bite of a leather belt, and suddenly, he’s so cold he’s shivering. His teeth chatter, and Buck can’t help his tears soaking into the soft sheets, making a mess of it. 

Somewhere behind him, a voice calls his name, and large hands grip his shoulders. Buck flinches. “Please, I’ll be good, please don’t—”

“Buck, it’s me, Eddie.” 

The grip on his shoulders tighten. Buck can’t swallow the sob that escapes, and the fear of retribution for his inability to control his emotions sends a wave of nausea through him. He doesn’t mean to be weak, doesn’t mean to flinch away from the lashes and the pain, but he can’t help it, and it makes him a bad sub, and—

“Ev, Evan,” the far away voice cuts through his spiralling thoughts, and Buck inhales sharply at the next word that blares in his mind like a foghorn. “Red.”

Everything comes to a screeching halt. His mind empties, and his body sprawls when the ropes fall from his limbs. The sheets are cool and soft against his skin, and Buck curls up onto his side, hugging his knees to his chest and trying to subdue the tremors coursing through his limbs. 

Warmth presses against his back, and Buck freezes when strong arms gather him into a loose embrace. Fingers rub along his arm and soft lips press kisses into his shoulder. Buck inhales, and the familiar scent of Eddie’s aftershave pulls him out of his paralysis. 

Eddie. 

He’s in Eddie’s house. In Eddie’s bed. In Eddie’s arms. 

Exhaustion like nothing he’s ever experienced crash through him, and Buck can’t keep his eyes open no matter how hard he tries, but he struggles to turn in Eddie’s arms, the need to apologize curdling his insides. Eddie’s arms tighten around him until he stops struggling. 

“Sleep,  _ cariño, _ ” Eddie whispers in his ear, and the sound of his voice, so gentle and devoid of malice, grounds him. “We’ll talk in the morning.”


	21. Chapter 21

Soft sniffles tug at Eddie’s consciousness. He doesn’t want to wake up. He’s content and the body tucked into him is solid and warm and—

The body tucked into him.  _ Buck _ .

Eddie’s eyes fly open. He’s instantly alert, and his chest aches as the events of last night rush back in a wave of reality. Of all the ways last night could have ended, Buck having a panic attack in his bed was the last thing he expected, and it’s something he never ever wants to happen again. When the drunken haze of arousal and possessiveness finally lifted and he saw Buck’s distress, he couldn’t cut the ropes off fast enough. 

Guilt slithers down his spine and pools low in his gut in churning swirls. He should have seen the signs. Should have noticed the way Buck’s body tensed and the way his hands shook when the ropes touched his skin. But Eddie was so caught up in his own head, in his own lust and his stupid desires to see Buck trussed and spread for him, that he didn’t register the signals. Or maybe he chose not to. He’ll never know for sure, but that nauseating dread when Buck recoiled from his touch will haunt him for the rest of his life. 

Buck’s back is turned to him, his shoulder twitches, and he groans as if in distress. Eddie snuggles close and kisses the base of his neck, wrapping his arms around Buck’s torso and pulling him close. The twitching and groaning stop, and Eddie breathes a soft sigh of relief when Buck’s body relaxes against him. 

Eddie peers past the crack in the curtain. It’s still dark out, and judging by how quiet the house is, Christopher should still be in bed. He breathes another sigh of relief, then nuzzles the back of Buck’s neck. He loves the eucalyptus shampoo Buck is so fond of. He was a fan of the smell before, but now it’s an intoxicating scent he can’t get enough of. Whenever he catches a whiff of it, whether it be on someone at a scene or someone at a coffee shop, Eddie thinks of Buck, and it’s both a blessing and a curse. 

When Buck’s not with him, like these past four weeks, it’s like a part of Eddie is missing. Like a gaping hole in his chest that needs to be filled. Seeing Buck like that last night, seeing the panic in his frightened blue eyes, it ripped that gaping hole into a bleeding cavern. What happened to him? Who hurt him? Eddie’s arms tighten around Buck’s waist at the very idea that someone could have done something so terrible to Buck that it’s scarred him so badly. 

Eddie’s eyes flick to the ropes strewn about on the floor, their ends frayed from the knife he used to slash through them, and he curses himself for not cleaning up last night before falling asleep. Not that it would have been an easy feat, with the way Buck shook and whimpered in his sleep every time Eddie pulled away, until eventually he gave up trying to leave and let sleep pull him under. 

Maybe he can do it now before Buck wakes up. The last thing Eddie wants is the sight of them triggering Buck into another melt down. He buries his nose into the short tufts of hair at Buck’s nape and inhales one last time, then extricates his arms as slowly as he can. 

Buck stirs, and his deep, even breathing turns shallow. 

_ Shit.  _

Eddie freezes but it’s too late, and Buck turns around to face him. He looks peaceful, riding that space between slumber and wakefulness, where reality’s claws have no purchase and the tender kiss of sleep is still evident in his soft blue eyes. The moment doesn’t last, though, and Eddie’s breath catches when Buck’s eyes widen and his nostrils flare like a spooked wild animal. 

He freezes, his lax body tensing like granite beside Eddie, and his breathing grows even shallower as panic and fear fills the blue of his eyes. 

“Eddie, I’m so sor—”

Eddie shuts him up with the press of his lips. He should be the one apologizing, should be the one begging for forgiveness. But in true Evan Buckley fashion, he thinks this is his fault, and Eddie will be damned if he’ll let Buck take the blame for the obviously heinous thing that was done to him. He wants to hear everything Buck has to say, but not this. Not when it wasn’t his fault. 

When Eddie pulls back from the chaste kiss, Buck’s eyes are so wide it’d be comical if it didn’t hurt Eddie’s heart so much to see him like this. He pulls the blankets around their shoulders, cocooning them in warmth, then traces a finger along the ridge of Buck’s brow, down his cheek, around the sharp angle of his jaw, and stops at his plump bottom lip.

“I don’t want you to apologize,” Eddie whispers and taps Buck’s lip once before cupping his cheek. “I don’t know what happened, but I should have sensed your distress. I’m your Dominant, and I failed you. Will you ever forgive me?”

Buck’s eyes look like they’re about to bug out of his head, and it takes him a second to answer as if he’s trying to gather his wits about him. “You—I—I mean, yes, of course. But it wasn’t your fault. It was mine.”

Eddie frowns, the words of protest on the tip of his tongue, but Buck beats him to it. 

“I should have safe worded.” Buck’s gaze drops into the dark warm space under the blankets between their bodies. 

Eddie strokes his thumb across Buck’s cheek. “Why didn’t you?”

Buck chews on his bottom lip for a long moment, and Eddie holds his tongue while emotions flit across his handsome features. Eventually, Buck takes a deep, shuddering breath, and meets Eddie’s eyes. “I thought about it. When…when those memories first came back, I wanted to. The word was right there, but I didn’t want to disappoint you. No dom wants a sub who can’t fulfill their desires, right?”

Eddie closes his eyes and takes a deep breath of his own, checking his rage at the door lest Buck thinks it’s directed at him. If Eddie ever meets this jackass who hurt Buck, who fed Buck all these lies to diminish his self-worth, he can’t promise he won’t kill him. 

“Buck,  _ cariño,  _ listen, and I’m going to say this to you as many times as it takes for you to believe it. I love you. I  _ want _ you. All of you, in whatever shape and form.” Moisture slides beneath the pad of his thumb across Buck’s cheek, and Eddie brushes the single tear away as tenderly as he could. “You’re the best Submissive and the partner a man can ask for. You’re not perfect, but neither am I. Yet, you accept me with all my broken bits and my baggage. I don’t are if you don’t want to try bondage ever, hell, I don’t even care if you never want to have sex again—”

“Oh God, please don’t threaten the sex,” Buck blurts through his tears, and Eddie chuckles. 

“Okay, good, I kinda like having sex with you, too.” He brushes more tears from Buck’s cheeks, then shuffles close, reaching up to trace a finger across the collar around Buck’s neck, needing to feel its smoothness as much as the bond it represents. “I need you to trust me, to trust  _ us, _ and I need you to tell me when I’ve hit a hard limit.”

Buck sniffles, his tongue flicking out to lick his chapped lips, and he nods, knocking another tear loose. Eddie darts in and kisses the droplet from the bridge of Buck’s nose, then Buck tilts his head back and captures Eddie’s lips in a watery kiss. 

The press of his mouth is tentative, as if he’s testing the waters all over again. Eddie doesn’t push, just lays there and lets Buck set the pace, lets Buck regain equilibrium and control. This isn’t about him, never has been, and Eddie’s more than happy to be the side show of Buck’s main event. The kiss ends with Buck’s groan echoing in the quiet space around them, and a finger replaces his soft lips on Eddie’s lips. 

“I love you, so, so much,” Buck whispers, “and I believe you. You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, Eddie.” He takes a deep breath, holds it, then lets it out slowly. “And I am sorry for not safe wording when I should have.”

“It’s not—”

“No.” Buck shakes his head, and Eddie swallows the rest of his protest. “I was uncomfortable and I should have backed out. Instead, I put us both in a shitty spot. So, thank you for catching me when I couldn’t catch myself.”

The flight leaves Eddie then, and he kisses the pad of the finger still pressed to his lips. Buck’s right. Sure, the dom is supposed to keep an eye on the situation, but it takes two to tango, and the sub needs to be honest with their feelings for this to work.

“Always,  _ cariño,”  _ Eddie says, but he’s not ready to let Buck take all the blame. “I’m sorry too, for not noticing sooner. Can we agree that we both fucked up?”

Buck chuckles and mutters a quiet “okay,” but his smile fades as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and worries at it. He’s quiet for another long moment, his mouth opening and closing as if he can’t quite find the words. Eddie wants to tell him that he doesn't have to tell him anything if he’s not ready, that Eddie’s not going anywhere, but the way Buck’s eyes harden with conviction stops him. 

“When I was sixteen,” he begins, pauses and closes his eyes as if the words cut him physically, then continues, “I was placed in a home. It seemed really good in the beginning, you know? My foster dad was a dom, and he was really good with me, especially since I never quite got a hang of my sub urges being bounced around so many foster homes where most of the guardians were Neutrals.” 

Eddie finds Buck’s hand under the covers and threads their fingers together, hoping to send strength and courage through the touch. 

“He taught me how to deal with the itch, how to suppress the mind-numbing urge to submit, and how to control my growing irritation when I haven’t gone under in awhile. I’d been on edge for so long, been so agitated, and it had hurt so bad that when he finally took the pain away, I cried.” Buck looks away quickly, but Eddie doesn’t miss the shame and guilt flashing in those sad blue eyes. “And then it was like a spell was cast over me. I wanted to please him, to do anything and everything he asked. It made me happy to submit to him, and slowly, little by little, he started to hurt me.”

“Fuck, Ev.” Eddie swallows his rage and growing nausea, and Buck squeezes his hand as if to reassure him. 

“It wasn’t anything bad at first. A sharp reprimand here, a slap there. He really liked to tie me up and leave me alone with the lights off, usually with my face on the floor. He left me like that for hours, until I couldn’t feel my fingers and toes sometimes. When his wife asked about it, he told her that I wanted it, so she turned a blind eye to what he did to me. She was a Neutral so I don’t blame her for not knowing how these things work. I tried to be good for him, I really did, but this one time I just couldn’t take it anymore, and I—I cried for him to release me. And he—” Buck takes a shuddering breath, and he grips Eddie’s hands so tightly Eddie’s bones shift. 

“He ignored my safe word and beat me with his belt. And it all went downhill from there. He told me what a good Submissive should do, how a good sub should be, and how I was none of those things and no dom will ever want me so I better not have any ideas about running away.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“He never did anything sexual, thank fuck. Said he wasn’t into boys like that. And he was always careful. Never hit my face and never broke skin, but the bruises and welts were constant, and I was too stupid and afraid of disappointing him to say anything to anyone. Then he slipped up this one time and kicked me in the head a little too hard, and we ended up at the ER where the nurse saw the rest of my injuries and called the cops.”

Eddie gathers Buck into his arms and clings to him. His hands are shaking, and every breath is a struggle as he swallows his tears. This is the ugly reality for many Submissive children in the system. Eddie’s even responded to a few calls like this, but to hear the story from Buck’s lips, to know that Buck lived through this nightmare and came out the other end still shining so brightly is humbling, and Eddie’s heart breaks for him all over again.

“I don’t know what happened to him, but after that, Bobby and Athena took me in.” Buck’s shoulders relax at the mention of their names. “They saved my life, Eddie. And now I have you.”

Eddie swallows past the lump in this throat and kisses the top of Buck’s head. “I’ll never, ever hurt you, you know that right?” 

Buck pulls back and looks up at him with trusting eyes. “I do. I really, really do. But, I don’t know what other fucked up triggers I have. I thought I was over this, you know? Even if we sit down and list it out like they did in fifty shades, I don’t know what will and won’t trigger me.”

“Whatever they are, we’ll work through them.” Eddie darts in and presses a soft kiss to Buck’s lips. “We’ll stop whenever we need to. We can go to therapy. Whatever you need, we’ll do it. Together.” 

Buck swallows as more tears spill down the bridge of his nose, and he nods as if he doesn’t trust his own voice. Outside, the sky brightens with pre-dawn light, but Buck’s smile is soft and genuine and more beautiful than any sunrise Eddie has ever seen. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Eddie blurts. 

“So are you,” Buck croaks, and his cheeks flush as he ducks back into Eddie’s embrace, his face buried into Eddie’s neck. 

Emotions war within Eddie. Anguish over what happened to Buck. Relief that it was Bobby and Athena who took him in and gave him a real home. Rage at the nameless, faceless human trash who may still be out there terrorizing other Submissives. Helplessness at his inability to do anything but hold the man who’s become his whole world and pray that his arms are strong enough to hold them together. 

He should say something, but the words are stuck in his throat and his tongue is too big for his mouth. Before he can come up with something, his stomach growls, and Buck’s snort shatters the delicately charged air between them.

“You’re also hungry, it seems,” Buck says with a teasing smirk. 

Eddie groans, and when his stomach growls again, he huffs an indignant sigh and throws the sheets off them both with a flourished kick. “Guess it’s time to get up and make breakfast.” 

And the sound of Buck’s anguished squeal as cold air blasts them fills every nook and cranny of Eddie’s heart with love for this man. 

===

Eddie twists his key in the lock and opens the front door and grins as the smell of yeast and cinnamon greets him. Voices—a woman, a child, and a deeper male one that belongs to someone who’s quickly becoming as important to him as his son—drift down the hall, and Eddie’s smile widens as he shuts the door behind him and kicks off his shoes. Ever since that disastrous night four weeks ago, Buck has been coming over almost every evening when Eddie’s not working. It’s been nice having him close even though he doesn’t spend the night every time. After what happened, they both need the physical connection even if the only contact they share is Eddie’s hand on the back of Buck’s neck while he studies sitting on the cushion next to Eddie’s feet. 

He didn’t know Buck was going to be here this early today, and his chest swells with the idea that he and Chris have been spending time together. 

“You hear that?” Buck asks. 

“Yeah!” comes Chris’ cheer. 

“Well, boy, whatcha waiting for then?” Carla says with a chuckle, and the  _ tap tap tap _ of Chris’ crutches hitting the linoleum kitchen floor cuts off whatever else she was going to say. 

Eddie hangs up his coat in the closet by the front door and turns in time to see Chris emerging from the hallway, and he meets him halfway in the small foyer. “Miss me,  _ mijo?” _

“Always,” Chris says as Eddie picks him up. Arms stronger than they look wrap around Eddie’s neck, and Eddie inhales as he hugs his son close. 

Eddie doesn’t mind working afternoons or overnights or even the twenty-four hour shifts where he emerges unsure which day of the week it is, but he treasures the rare morning shifts where he can come home to Chris like this. No matter how bad the calls were or how shitty the day was, Chris’ open and genuine smile always lifts Eddie’s mood the moment Eddie sees him coming around that hallway corner. 

Over Chris’ shoulder, Eddie’s gaze lands on the second man who’s taken up residence in his heart, and Eddie’s life  _ and  _ heart has never been more full. 

“Welcome home, babe,” Buck says, and when Eddie closes the two steps of distance between them with Chris still in his arms, Buck leans in and kisses Eddie’s cheek. “How was your day?”

“Good,” Eddie replies and presses a kiss to the side of Buck’s nose. “Better now that I’m home. I thought you weren’t gonna be over till later?”

“Well, surprise.” Buck waggles his eyebrows, his face splitting into a shit-eating grin.

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the chuckle bubbling to the surface. “And something smells fantastic.” He turns to Chris. “What’re you guys making?”

“Cinnamon buns and spaghetti!” 

“Not together, I hope.” Eddie wrinkles his nose, earning himself an eye-roll Chris must have inherited from him. 

“That’s silly, daddy.” Chris wiggles until Eddie puts him back on his feet. He readjusts his crutches, then points with a tilt of his head. “C’mon, they’re gonna burn.”

“They’re not gonna burn, bud,” Buck says, but he follows Chris down the hall. “We still got at least two more minutes.”

Eddie follows them into the kitchen, and Carla comes around the dinner table, where she’s sitting, and gives Eddie a hug. “Uh huh,” she says, “and you got me watching them like a hawk. They’re fine.” 

Chris places his crutches against the counter, then takes a seat on the stool in front of the oven and watches the tray of cinnamon buns through the window. Buck goes back to the stove and stirs the giant pot of red sauce, bringing the wooden spoon to his lips and blows before licking the sauce. He smacks his lips, stares into the space in front of him as if it holds the answers to all the mysteries of the universe, then grabs the salt shaker and adds a few generous shakes to the pot. 

His forearm shifts with the motion, and Eddie looks away quickly before he’s caught staring. Buck’s body has undergone an incredible transformation. His shoulders and chest have filled out, and the slopes of his traps are hard to ignore. His arms were big when they met, but they were sculpted for aesthetics. Now, they bulge with power as his biceps stretch the poor material of his t-shirt to the max. His waist has thickened into a solid trunk, and Eddie doesn’t have to see it to know just how massive his thighs are. The man is built for power. Give him a few more weeks, and Buck will be back squatting more than Eddie. 

But it’s not just his body that’s changed. He holds himself straighter, his chest open, his shoulders pulled back, like he’s not afraid to take up space anymore, and there’s an air of confidence about him that wasn’t lacking before, but it’s definitely different now. The old Buck was confident in places where he deemed he belonged, but this new Buck occupies any space and makes it his own. That, coupled with his handsome face, his brilliant blue eyes, his charming grin, and his endless legs, he’s gone from gorgeous to fucking breathtaking. 

Carla pats Eddie’s chest and smiles at him with twinkling eyes. “Hey, sugar, you’re looking good.”

“Hey, Carla.” Eddie squirms under her knowing, watchful eyes. “You’re looking pretty good yourself.”

Carla reclaims her spot at the dinner table and picks up her wine glass. “These two have been cooking up a storm, and Buck’s taken over my job. I’ve done nothing but read my book and drink wine all afternoon. Can’t get any better than that.”

Eddie laughs and takes a seat across from her where he can watch his two favourite boys in the kitchen. “Sounds like you’ve got it made. You’ll stay for dinner, yes?”

The mischievous twinkle in her eyes is replaced by something warm. “I’d like to if it’s not too much trouble.”

Eddie reaches across the table and squeezes her hand. “You’re family _. _ It’s never too much trouble. Stay, please, I insist.” 

Carla nods, a shy smile pulling at her full plump lips, and a faint blush paints her dark skin. “That settles it then.” 

Eddie sits back and a wave of contentment washes over him. Something’s changed for him too, and it has everything to do with this little family that’s adopted him and made him whole. For the first time since he left Texas, he finally feels like he belongs to something bigger than himself, and that feeling of being a part of something has been missing from his life since the day he left the Army. 

Sure, after he was discharged he still had a home to go to, but he’d been gone for so long Shannon and Chris had carved out their own little world without him. They were happy, and even though things were hard, they supported each other. Eddie was the outsider looking in, the stranger trying to reinsert himself into a space he didn’t belong. When Shannon died, even that world shattered, leaving Eddie to flounder as he tried to navigate single-parenthood and civilian life. 

Chris, Buck, Carla, and the one-eighteen saved his life, and Eddie couldn’t be more proud to call them his family. 

The oven beeps, and Chris flies out of his stool and grabs the oven mitts off the counter. Buck opens the oven door, and the sweet aroma of caramelized sugar and yeast and cinnamon intensifies and wraps around Eddie like a warm blanket from the dryer. Eddie doesn’t notice Carla getting up to help, but between her, Buck, and Chris, they pull the buns out of the tray and onto a cooling rack, then Chris pours icing over them from a measuring cup. 

The domesticity of it all makes his chest ache, and Eddie pinches himself just to make sure it’s real. Once the buns are iced and left to cool, Eddie helps Buck set the table while Carla and Chris dish up spaghetti bolognese, garlic bread, and a garden salad with cucumbers, cherry tomatoes, grated carrots, and mountains of romaine lettuce. Eddie watches as Buck digs in, taking bites so big they bulge out his cheeks, and he’s thrilled Buck’s finally stopped counting his calories down to the single digit. 

“So,” Eddie says, putting down his fork as he contemplates getting seconds. The food, as always, is damn phenomenal. “How did your final exam go?”

Buck chews and swallows, then says, “Easy peasy—”

“Lemon squeezy,” Chris finishes, and the two of them fist bumps over the dinner table, much to Carla’s mocking gasp of disapproval. 

“That’s fantastic.” Eddie gets up and heads for the giant pot on the stove, his willpower losing to his stomach. He can always clock more time at the gym at work tomorrow. “When will you hear back?”

“Soon, I hope. Just to put me out of my misery.” 

“I’m sure you did great.” Pasta and sauce ladened high on his plate with another slice of garlic bread balanced on top, Eddie returns to the table and sighs happily as he rubs his tummy. “Now we wait, huh?”

Buck stabs a forkful of salad and holds it in front of his lips. “Yeah, my favourite part.” 

Eddie tsks. “Sarcasm is not a good look on you.” 

“Bite me.”

Oh, Eddie wants to do so much more than just bite. “You—”

“Okay, boys.” Carla waves her fork between them menacingly. “Wait till Chris is in bed and I’m outta here before you tear each other to pieces.” 

“To pieces?” Chris’ head snaps from Eddie to Buck and back to Eddie, concern evident in his wide eyes. 

“We’re not gonna hurt each other, bud,” Buck offers quickly while shooting Carla a dirty look. 

She hides her smile behind a big sip of wine even as Eddie hides his with a large bite of spaghetti. The rest of dinner passes without incident, and they each devour a giant cinnamon bun with cream cheese icing—still warm and gooey in the centre with plump raisins—despite the generous portions of pasta and salad they consumed. Carla helps Buck load the dishwasher while Chris shows Eddie his completed homework, which he finished early in the afternoon before he and Buck started cooking. 

“That’s everything?” Eddie checks over the last page of spelling before handing it back to Chris. 

“Yeah. Buck helped me with math and reading, and the rest isn’t due until the end of the week.” Chris stuffs his notebook into his backpack and flops onto the couch. “Can we pick a movie now?” 

Eddie musses his hair and chuckles when Chris tries to duck away. “Sure,  _ mijo, _ what’re you in the mood for?” 

“Iron Man.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Eddie says. Carla walks into the living room and plucks her purse from the love seat, giving them both a wide smile and a wave. “As soon as you go say goodbye to Carla.”

Chris looks up just as Carla fishes her keys from her purse. “You’re leaving?”

“Gotta go feed my kitty cat,” she replies with a fond smile, holding her arms out as she waits for Chris to go in for a hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Chris wraps his arms around her middle and squeezes, then pulls back and looks up. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

Buck walks in, wiping his hands on the back of his jeans as Carla lets go of Chris. Eddie gets up, and Buck makes as if to walk her to the door, but she waves them off. 

“Stay and enjoy your movie. Not my first time leaving this house”—she winks, and Eddie’s cheeks heat—“and it won’t be my last.”

“Drive safe,” Buck says, and Eddie repeats the sentiment as she waves at them over her shoulder. 

Chris crawls back onto the couch and Eddie sits down next to him. Buck takes the spot to Chris’ other side, and the three of them settle in for the movie. What he doesn’t expect is Carla’s surprised voice drifting down the hall just as the opening scene of the movie starts. 

“Hi, what can I do for you?” she asks, suspicion evident in her voice. 

Eddie and Buck exchange a look, and Buck nods and slips an arm around Chris’ shoulders. Eddie jumps to his feet and hurries down the hall, and spaghetti and cinnamon bun churn in his stomach when Carla steps back to reveal the visitor at the door. 

“Eddie,” the man says with a wide smile when he sees Eddie. “Just the man I’m here to see.”

Carla turns and raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow at him. 

“Mr. Kelly? What are you doing here?” Eddie stops next to Carla and pinches himself a second time tonight, making sure he’s not hallucinating. He turns to Carla and says, “This is John Kelly, Shannon’s father.”


	22. Chapter 22

Who the hell is Mr. Kelly? A neighbour? Buck strains to listen as Eddie lowers his voice, but the next thing he hears is Carla bidding Eddie a good night, then the sound of the front door shutting. Did Mr. Kelly leave, too? He gets his answer soon enough when two sets of footsteps pad down the short hall and into the living room. 

“Grandpa!” Christopher shouts and scrambles out from under Buck’s arm. 

Buck shoots off the couch and stares as Christopher runs into the arms of the older man standing in front of Eddie. His dark brown hair is close-cropped and peppered with grey and there are lines around his eyes and mouth, but there’s no mistaking the resemblance between this man and Shannon smiling in the photograph on the mantle. 

Eddie hangs back as Mr. Kelly picks Christopher up and plants a big kiss on his cheek, his watchful eyes sharp and his expression unreadable. His arms are folded across his chest, and despite his efforts of appearing relaxed, Buck can feel the waves of tension rolling off him. 

_Huh._

“Grandpa, I’ve missed you,” Christopher says, his arms resting around Mr. Kelly’s neck. 

“I’ve missed you too, my boy,” he replies with genuine fondness in his voice, his face split in a wide smile that lights up his blue-grey eyes. “You’re so tall now! How tall are you?”

“I don’t know, but I’m tall enough to go on the ferris wheel at the carnival now.” Christopher wiggles out of Mr. Kelly’s arms and lets gravity pull him down. “Where’s grandma?” 

The older man hesitates for a split second, but it was long enough that Buck notices. Eddie’s eyes narrow, but before he can do or say anything, Mr. Kelly says, “Grandma is back home in Texas looking after the puppies. You remember the puppies, don’t you?”

“Oliver and Ryan? Yes!” Christopher turns to Buck and smiles. “Oliver runs into the furniture all the time and Ryan likes to pee in grandma’s yarn basket.” 

Mr. Kelly straightens and looks at Buck for the first time since he walked into the room. His gaze flicks to Buck’s throat, no doubt landing on the braided leather collar, and Buck wants to shrink under his shrewd gaze. “Ah, I didn’t know Eddie had a friend over. I’m John Kelly, Shannon’s—uh, Christopher’s mom’s—father,” he says, extending a hand but not taking a step toward Buck.

Buck snaps out of it and hurries around the couch. His hand closes around John Kelly’s, but before he can introduce himself, Christopher cuts him off. 

“This is Buck. He’s not daddy’s friend, he’s daddy’s boyfriend. And we’re watching _Iron Man._ Are you gonna stay for the movie, grandpa?” 

John’s sharp gaze turns steely, and his grip around Buck’s hand tightens until Buck can feel his bones shift. Every molecule in his body screams for him to get away from this man as he tries not to drop his eyes to the floor. He’s not sure how he knows, but he can feel it in his bones that this man is a Dominant, and by the way he’s trying to physically intimidate Buck, he’s not a friendly one either. 

“Well,” John says, his voice soft even as his grip tightens further, and Buck bites the inside of his cheek to keep from wincing. “I’d love to stay for a movie if it’s okay with your daddy and, uh, Buck, was it?” He drops the handshake and grins as if he didn’t just try to break Buck’s hand. 

“I don’t know, _mijo._ It’s getting kind of lat—” 

“Daddy please please _please,”_ Christopher turns to Eddie and puts on his best pleading puppy-dog eyes. 

“You stay,” Buck answers before Eddie has a chance to. “I should probably get going. It’s been a long day.” He was supposed to stay the night and make waffles in the morning before taking Christopher to school, but with this new development, he feels it’s best if he let Eddie handle his father-in-law without Buck underfoot. Especially since this man obviously doesn’t like him. 

“But Buck, what about waffles?” Christopher spins around and pins Buck with a look of pure sadness and betrayal. “Why can’t you all stay? Can’t everyone stay, daddy?” 

Eddie looks as if he just swallowed a frog, but he’s never been good at saying no when Christopher really begs for something, and tonight is no difference. He sighs, rakes a hand through his hair, and nods. “Everyone can stay for the movie if they want to, then it’s straight to bed with you.”

Christopher grabs both John’s and Buck’s hands and drags them to the couch. He climbs up, then pats the cushions on either side of him while beaming up at them. There’s no way Buck can leave now. They get comfortable on the couch, and Eddie comes around with a big bowl of popcorn before sitting down in the love seat and hitting play on the TV. 

Buck’s seen _Iron Man_ a million times, but he’s never had a harder time sitting through it than tonight. He tries to keep his eyes glued to the screen, but it’s near impossible when there are what feels like lasers shooting into the side of his head. Christopher is not big, and the space above his head of messy curls is charged with so much oppressive pressure Buck wants to dig a hole and bury himself. 

He knows what John’s doing. This isn’t the first time a dom has tried to play mind games with him. Tried to intimidate him and kick his biology into overdrive until he’s so overstimulated he can’t think or even remember his own name. However, every other time, Buck could walk away. Eddie’s living room, a place of love and security, now feels like a metal cage, a trap he can’t get out of without hurting himself or someone he loves. But if he has to choose between his own comfort and Christopher’s happiness, he’ll always always choose to protect Christopher. 

Buck wants to crawl over to Eddie, wants to feel _his_ dom’s solid strength pouring through him, but he holds himself still. The last thing he needs is to embarrass Eddie in front of his father-in-law, who despite being a raging douchebag, is still Christopher’s grandfather. Showing how upset he is would upset Eddie, which would upset Christopher, and Buck won’t have that.

Even if it means wanting to crawl out of his own skin. 

Half way through the movie, John stretches his arm across the back of the couch and taps the soft leather behind Buck’s head, and Buck nearly chokes on his exhale. The hand is so close, too close, and a little part of Buck yearns to have it on the back of his neck. The very idea sends a wave of nausea through him, and the dichotomy between his disgust and body’s indiscriminate need makes his stomach roil. 

Just when he’s not sure he can take anymore of this taunting, Eddie pulls a cushion off the couch next to his feet and motions for Buck to kneel. Buck forces himself to move slowly, deliberately, and not allow himself to fall onto the cushion like he wants to. Once settled next to Eddie’s feet, with Eddie’s hand secured around the back of his neck, Buck steals a glance at John and a small tendril of smug satisfaction thrills through him. 

John’s eyes are hard as they stare at the screen, and a muscle in his jaw ticks as if he’s grinding his teeth. Buck hates this. Hates that it’s become some sort of pissing contest between Eddie and John. Buck only knows what Eddie’s told him about his relationship with Shannon, but Shannon’s gone now, and whatever beef John has with Eddie, isn’t it worth putting aside for Christopher? 

As someone who’s had all his loved ones ripped away from him, Buck can’t understand how some people can treat their own families like this. 

When the movie credits are finally, blessedly rolling across the screen, Buck jumps up and takes Christopher to the bathroom to start his bedtime routine. He doesn’t want to be in that room a second longer than he has to, and he always does bedtime when he’s over, so he’s not counting this as making an excuse to get the hell out of dodge. 

He can make out hushed voices as he hands Christopher the tube of toothpaste. They sound angry, and at one point, Eddie raises his voice loud enough for Buck to make out a couple of curses that made Christopher’s eye’s pop. Buck shuts the bathroom door with his foot and urges Christopher to brush his teeth more thoroughly. 

“Can we have strawberries on the waffles tomorrow morning?” Christopher asks, his voice muffled around his toothbrush and a mouthful of bubbles. 

“Do we have any more strawberries in the fridge?” Buck forces himself to stop trying to hear what’s going on outside and focus on the little boy—who's rapidly becoming his world—in front of him. 

“Daddy bought some yesterday. I think we only ate half.” 

“In that case, yes, we can have sliced strawberries. And whipped cream too if you brush your teeth extra clean.” 

Christopher cheers then returns to his teeth brushing with renewed vigour, and by the time he’s done, his pearly whites are extra shiny under the bathroom light. They head into Christopher’s room, close the door, and Buck reads him a short chapter of “James and the Giant Peach” before tucking him in and turning off the lights. 

“Okay, bud, good night, sleep tight, and don’t let the bedbugs bite,” he whispers sinisterly, kneeling next to the bed and fussing with the blankets around Christopher’s sides. 

“Okay, Buck.” Christopher giggles, and when Buck is about to push to his feet, he adds, “And Buck?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“I love you. And tell daddy I love him, too.” 

Buck’s heart skips a beat and his chest swells with so many emotions he’s light-headed when he stands up. The corners of his eyes sting, but he takes a deep breath and wills the tears away. “Love you too, little man, and your daddy loves you to the moon and back. See you in the morning.” 

“See you in the morning.” Christopher turns over with his back to Buck, and Buck swallows past the lump in this throat as he closes the door with a quiet whisper of hinges. 

That warmth swirling in his chest and along his limbs turns to ice when he returns to the living room to Eddie and John glaring at each other. The post credit scene is playing, so Buck couldn’t have been gone for that long, and already Eddie’s face is bright red, his usually mussed hair even more of a floofy mess as if he’s been tugging on the strands. The moment they notice Buck’s presence, John’s blazing gaze shoots to him, and if looks could kill, he’d be a cooling corpse on the floor. 

“Is this why?” He jabs a finger in Buck’s direction.

“For fuck’s sake, John, I’m not going to dignify that with an answer.” 

“You ran off to play soldier after getting _my daughter_ pregnant,” he spits, and Buck grits his teeth to keep from recoiling from the blast of anger. “Then instead of taking responsibility, you sign up for another tour. Is it because you’re a fucking homosexual? You’d rather be around a bunch of dudes than come home and be a good husband to my Shannon? Be a good father to your _son?_ ” 

Disgust and rage boil beneath Buck’s skin, and he wants to punch the guy even if he’s Christopher’s grandfather. Eddie has beat himself up over his choices enough without someone else adding fuel to the fire, and who is this asshole to judge? All this time Eddie’s been in LA, where was he? 

“And, now, what, you’re _proud_ of what you are? You bring this”—he waves a hand at Buck as if he’s not even worth a finger point—“home and flaunt it in front of _my grandson_ like it’s not some disgusting perversion—”

“Get out of my house,” Eddie grits, punctuating each word with a barely controlled inhale. 

“Excuse me?” John’s face is so red he’d have blended right in with the bolognese sauce from dinner. 

“You don’t actually think you can walk into my house, insult the people I love, and expect me to stand here and take it?” Eddie takes a step closer to Buck and pulls him close, wrapping one arm around Buck’s waist. And if his hand is trembling against Buck’s back, Buck pretends not to notice. 

John’s expression darkens, and Buck can’t help the full-bodied shiver running through him. “Oh, so you _are_ capable of looking after the people you _love,”_ he sneers. “I guess Shannon just didn’t mean that much to you.” 

Eddie tenses, and his hand balls into a fist on the small of Buck’s back. “I—”

“Save it, Diaz,” John spits as if Eddie’s name is poison on his tongue, then turns and storms down the hall. 

Eddie stands stock still until the front door slams shut, then his whole body crumples as if he’s a puppet and someone just snipped his strings. Buck’s hands snap out and grab Eddie, holding him close and slowly lowering them both to the floor, their backs leaning against the couch. Eddie’s shaking, and it takes a few tense minutes before his shallow breathing deepens. 

“Christ, I’m so so sorry, Buck,” he croaks, his voice breaking on Buck’s name. “You didn’t deserve whatever the fuck that was.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Buck coos, wrapping an arm around Eddie’s shoulder and pulling him close. It physically hurts to see Eddie like this, so shaken and off-kilter, and Buck will do anything to help Eddie find his centre again, even if it means swallowing his pride. “He’s not even the worst dom I’ve ever met. That little intimidation trick doesn’t scare me.”

Eddie sighs and slides his arms around Buck’s waist and clings. “It was bullshit and I’m sorry it took me so long to realize he was doing it.” Buck shrugs, and they sit in silence for another beat longer.

Buck has so many questions, but right now is not the time to be asking for answers. Eddie’s always been his rock, his fountain of strength, and now it’s Buck’s turn to be here for Eddie in whatever way Eddie needs. That whole Dominants are supposed to always be in control is, as Buck’s starting to learn, all bullshit. 

Eddie twists in his arms and lays down next to Buck, his head in Buck’s lap, and Buck finds his fingers buried in Eddie’s hair as if it’s the most natural thing to do. A sub grooming his dom, how odd and yet how oddly right. Eddie’s eyes flutter shut and he sighs, and with each stroke of Buck’s fingers through his hair, tension seems to flow out of him. 

“Shannon and I were casually dating at best, a little past friends with benefits, but she wasn’t in love with me like I was with her.” Eddie’s voice cuts through the silence wrapped around them. “I adored her, but looking back on it, I wonder if it was more infatuation than love, you know?” He stares up at Buck, and there’s real love swimming in those soft brown eyes. “Then I got her pregnant right before my deployment, and, well, John didn’t like that. Not that I blame him.” 

Buck makes an affirmative sound in the back of his throat, his hand pausing mid-stroke through Eddie’s thick strands. That definitely explains the bitterness and hostility. 

“We got married hastily before I left, and you know the rest of that story. I loved her, Buck, and I think a part of me will always love her. For her, for what she gave me, and for what she made me realize was missing in my life.” Eddie’s gaze drops, and Buck wants to kiss away the sorrow etched in the lines of his face. 

“I don’t know why he’s here now, out of the blue,” he continues, his brows creased in a frown. “The last time I saw him and Shannon’s mother was at the funeral. When I let them know I was moving Chris to LA, I didn’t so much as get a voicemail, so I assumed they’d written us off.” 

“Huh,” is all Buck has to offer as he resumes stroking Eddie’s hair, his nails dragging lazily along the scalp. 

“And then for him to say the things he did,” Eddie growls, and Buck lays a hand on his chest, hoping the simple gesture is enough to keep his anger at bay. 

“What he said doesn’t matter, Eds,” Buck says. “When I tucked Christopher into bed tonight, he said he loves me, and he wants me to tell you he loves you too. That’s all that matters, man.” 

Eddie’s breath hitches and he covers Buck’s hand with his own, threading their fingers together. What John Kelly said hurt, but Buck can’t focus on that, not when the rest of his life is so full of love. Bobby, Athena, May and Harry, Maddie, all the men and women of the one-eighteen, Carla, Christopher. Eddie. These are the people who matter to him, who fill his life with joy and laughter and a reason to fight. 

And Buck will fight until his last breath to protect these people, his family, no matter what the cost. 

“I don’t deserve that little boy,” Eddie whispers so quietly Buck’s sure those words weren’t for him, and his guess is confirmed when Eddie shifts his gaze back up and locks eyes with him. “Love you, Evan.”

“Love you, too. Now, let’s go to bed so I can show you just how much.”

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head, rolling over and climbing to his feet. When he holds out a hand for Buck, the shadows in his eyes are less haunted, and the hurt in his expression is not gone but faded. 

===

With the FCA, CPAT, and the EMT program completed and him keeping his hours at the community centre part-time so he’s prepared to tackle whatever the next obstacle the firefighters hiring process throws at him, Buck suddenly finds a lot of free time on his hands. Which means he inevitably finds himself at Eddie’s house in the afternoons, waiting for Carla and Christopher to get home from school. 

It’s been a week since John Kelly showed up at the Diaz house unannounced. If Buck’s being honest, the man’s hate-filled eyes unsettled him more than he cares to admit, and spending the afternoon with Chris and sometimes even Eddie when he’s not working gives Buck a sense of peace that chases away the chills of having those eyes drill into him and find him wanting. He tells himself that it’s not him, that John Kelly would have hated anyone in Buck’s shoes, taking Shannon’s place in the Diaz household, but his heart isn’t quite on board with his head’s logic yet. 

So, he’s here, on Eddie’s doorstep, mucking about on his phone reading up on hurricanes when he hears the sound of tires crunching on gravel. He looks up in time to see Carla pull into the driveway then shut off the engine, and he smiles when she waves at him. 

Buck hops to his feet and hurries toward the side of the car Christopher is sitting on and pulls the door open. “Hey, bud, how was school?”

“Good,” he replies with a wide smile. “Are you staying for dinner today, Buck?”

“Hell yeah.” He’s over at Eddie’s house so much that he no longer feels like a guest here. This is home as much as his own place is, maybe even more so because the people he loves are here, so he’s long since stopped texting Eddie and asking if he can stay for dinner with Christopher and Carla. “Anything you want?”

“Grilled cheese and tomato soup? From scratch of course. I don’t really like the can stuff.” Christopher hands Buck his crutches, then unclips his seatbelt. 

Buck waits patiently until the boy reaches both arms out for him. Carefully, Buck helps Christopher out of car and places him gently on his feet. “Yeah? I don’t really like the canned stuff either.”

Carla snorts as she comes around with Christopher’s backpack in hand. “Hey, don’t you go knocking’ on Campbells canned tomato soup. I was brought up on that and there ain’t nothing wrong with it.”

Buck laughs and nods, and Carla gives him an indignant glare that’s softened by her amused grin. The three of them make their way to the house and Carla unlocks the front door. “You could have let yourself in with the spare key,” she says over her shoulder as she pushes the door open and steps into the dim foyer. “Better still, just get your own damn key so you don’t have to sit on the front steps like a lost puppy.”

Get his own key? To Eddie’s? Buck’s cheeks heat and his heart thumps faster as he rolls the idea around in his head. Exchanging keys seems like the next logical step in their relationship, but it’s not up to him. Eddie will give him a key when he’s ready. Until then, Buck’s happy to sit outside and wait. It’s not like the weather in LA is a hardship. “Nah,” he says as he ushers Christopher inside. “I’m good waiting.”

Carla gives him a side-eyed glance but says nothing. They wait for Christopher to take off his shoes and jacket, then the three of them pile into the kitchen. Buck pokes his head into the fridge and grabs the bundle of celery, the jar of natural peanut butter, and when he turns around, Christopher is standing behind him with the bag of raisins. Whenever Buck comes over, they always make ants on a log for their afternoon snack. It’s sort of become their little tradition. 

He tries not to think too hard on it because he doesn’t want to cry in front of Christopher and Carla, but his insides are warm as he fills the hollow stalk of the celery with peanut butter while Christopher sticks raisins into the gooey filling. 

Buck carries the plate of ants on a log and a glass of milk to the dinner table, where Carla has deposited Christopher’s backpack. She’s taken her usual spot at the far end of the table, and she helps Christopher stow his crutches when he takes a seat. Christopher spreads his homework out on the table, then grabs a stock of celery and chomps down with a crisp crunch. 

“What’s for homework?” Carla asks as she looks at the notebooks Christopher has spread out in front of them. 

“Math and spelling. Oh, and we’re supposed to write about our parents’ jobs.” He pulls a worksheet out of his binder and hands it to Carla. “I guess I only have to write about one thing because daddy’s a firefighter and Buck’s going to be one soon, too.”

Buck’s celery freezes on its way to his lips, and he swallows around the rapidly growing lump in his throat at Christopher’s words. Carla looks up at him with soft eyes, and her smile is knowing and genuine. She turns back to Christopher and nods. 

“Well, aren’t you a lucky boy.” 

“I guess.” 

Christopher takes a large gulp of milk before opening his math homework. Carla reads him the instructions, then helps him break down the question, her voice soft and patient. Buck sits back and chews on the end of his celery stalk and tries not to drown in the overwhelming amount of love he has for this family that’s taken him in. 

It’s one thing to have Eddie’s love and affection, but another to earn Christopher’s love and trust and acceptance. Buck’s also surprised at how quickly he took to playing a parental role and how much he loves it. He’s always loved kids, but with his own parents gone when he was still young and his track record of awful foster parents, Buck always believed he’d make a horrible father. After all, he’s had no real role model until Bobby came along. 

And that’s one more thing to add to the pile of things Buck’s grateful for towards Bobby. He’s taught him how to be a real parent, and right now, that’s worth more than anything in the world to Buck. 

Buck hops in to help when Christopher starts working on the essay about Eddie and Buck being firefighters even though he technically isn’t one, yet. He’s been around the firehouse enough to know the ins and outs of how things work, and with his studies still fresh on his mind, Buck’s sure his knowledge is as close to up-to-date as possible. 

Homework takes them another thirty minutes. Carla reads over Christopher’s essay on firefighters, and once she’s happy with it, they pack Christopher’s school bag for tomorrow then head back into the kitchen to start on dinner. 

Ever since Buck started coming over more often, Eddie’s stopped stocking the fridge with Kraft singles, much to Buck’s relief. Christopher helps collect all the pantry items they need to make a front scratch cream of tomato soup while Buck pulls heavy cream, cheese, bread, and mayonnaise from the fridge. He loves working with Christopher in the kitchen. 

They’re always in sync, and Christopher always knows exactly what he’s thinking before he even voices his thoughts. They dance around each other with ease, and Buck’s so familiar with Eddie’s kitchen (or maybe it’s really Christopher’s kitchen) that he no longer needs to ask about where anything is. Carla tried to help in the beginning, but now she knows better. Instead, she takes her beverage of the day—which is a hot mug of coffee today—and watches them from the dinner table, occasionally giving her sassy commentary as they work. 

Buck pulls the cutting board from the drawer next to the fridge, ready to slice some tomatoes when Christopher says, “There was a lady that came and talked to me at school today.”

Carla’s eyes snap up from her book, and Buck can’t help the shiver running down his spine. Carla, being Christopher’s point of contact when Eddie’s on the job, should have gotten a phone call from the school to get permission before doing any special assessments with Christopher. The fact she looks as surprised as Buck feels does not bode well. “A lady? And what did she want to talk to you about?”

Christopher looks up from the carrot he’s peeling. “She took me to a room and asked me if I’m happy at home. What happens when daddy’s not here. She asked me about you. If you pick me up at school on time and do you make me meals and help me with homework.”

Carla puts down her book, her frown deepening. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, she wanted to know how much daddy works and of how often I see him. If he drinks. I told her he only drinks beers when Buck’s over and only when he has a day off the next day.” Christopher goes back to peeling his carrot, but Buck’s forgotten about the tomatoes completely as he turns to look at the boy. 

“Wait, you told her about me?”

“She asked me about daddy’s boyfriend.”

“She knew about me?”

“Yeah.” He looks up and frowns. “Is she not supposed to?”

“No. Yes. I mean, her knowing about me is fine.” Buck huffs out a breath. “I hope you told her all good things about me?” He waggles his eyebrows, trying to keep his tone light even as dread settles in his stomach like lead. 

If this is about what he thinks it is, then Eddie’s going to lose his ever-loving shit. 

“Anything else, my boy?” Carla asks, and judging by the look she shoots Buck’s way, she’s on the same page as him. 

“I don’t really remember. It was during recess and I really wanted to go play.” Christopher shrugs. “She said I wasn’t in trouble or anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh, honey, we know you’re not in trouble.” Carla gets up and comes in the kitchen to plant a kiss on Christopher’s forehead. “I’m glad you told us about this, so, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Christopher wraps his arms around Carla and squeezes. “Do you want two kinds of cheese in your sandwich or just cheddar?”

“Oh, I get a choice?” She smiles and taps her chin, then says, “How ‘bout you surprise me.” 

Christopher’s face splits in a wide grin, and he goes back to peeling his second carrot. Carla’s smile fades when she catches Buck’s eyes. She gestures for him to follow her, no doubt wanting to confirm her suspicions with what this is all about with Buck before telling Eddie. Buck wipes his hands on a towel, and he makes to follow when keys jingle at the front door. 

_Shit._


	23. Chapter 23

To say the day was a shitshow was an understatement. 

Eddie trudges through the front door and kicks off his boots. Calls involving children always hit him the hardest, especially kids around Chris’ age, and if Eddie never takes another call where a child watches their parent die, it’ll be too soon. The utter devastation on that poor boy’s face when he realized his mom wasn’t waking up destroyed Eddie, and he had to take a moment to compose himself before stepping in and pulling the boy away from her prone, unmoving body. 

His uniform, which is hanging in his locker back at the station, still weighs heavy on his shoulders, and Eddie wishes it was that easy to leave work at the station, too. He bends down to place his boots in the shoe tray by the front door and smiles at the three pairs of neatly arranged shoes already there. Buck’s here, and the thought of him welcoming Eddie home with a kiss on top of the usual hug from Chris lifts Eddie’s spirits.

_ Tap, tap, tap.  _ And Eddie’s smile widens at the familiar sound. Chris bursts from the hallway as Eddie crouches and opens his arms, and the weight of the day evaporates when Chris flings himself into Eddie’s embrace. 

He inhales deeply, enjoying the faint scent of the summer berry shampoo Chris likes so much, and hugs his boy extra tight. Days like today reminds him he needs to be more careful when he’s on the job. That he needs to come home to Chris because he’s the only thing standing between his boy and the foster system that chews up kids and spits them out without mercy. 

Eddie’s gaze shifts up and finds Buck looking down at them with soft eyes, and his heart breaks again for the loss Buck suffered. Did he look just as devastated as that little boy when he learned that his whole family was gone? Did he cry and make a scene, or did he quietly process that information while strangers decided his fate? Eddie closes his eyes and takes a few deep, shuddering breaths, then pulls back and plants a kiss on Chris’ forehead. 

“Missed me?” 

“Yeah,” Chris says, his smile squishing his eyes into slits. “Did you miss me, daddy?”

“Always,  _ mijo,” _ Eddie replies and squeezes his shoulders. 

“We’re making cream of tomato soup and grilled cheese for dinner today. Wanna help?”

“Of course. Let me wash up, then you can put me to work.” 

Eddie waits for Chris to disappear down the hall before taking Buck’s hands and leaning in for a kiss. Buck’s lips are soft and sweet, and he opens up to Eddie without prompting. It’s always a privilege to kiss Buck, to taste him and savour him, and Eddie never wants to forget that. Never wants to take Buck for granted. 

When they part, Buck’s crystal blues are glassy and his cheeks are flushed. His lips are pink and swollen and glistening like a fresh summer berry ready for picking, and Eddie wants to consume that berry until he’s drunk on its juices. 

Before he can lean in for another kiss, though, Chris calls from the kitchen, demanding them to hurry up and breaking the moment. 

“Hey,” Buck says as he blinks the haze of arousal from his eyes. 

“Hey yourself,” Eddie replies. “Remind me to continue where we left off once Chris goes to bed.”

Buck doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes Eddie’s hand and tugs him down the hall, past the living room, and into the kitchen where Carla’s helping Chris chop carrots. She looks up, and something guarded flashes in her eyes so quickly Eddie wonders if he imagined it. 

That feeling of something not-quite-right slithers up his spine. It’s probably nothing. Maybe she just had a long day, or maybe she’s not feeling a hundred percent. Or maybe Eddie really did imagine whatever it was he thinks he saw. But as much as he tries to downplay the gnawing in his stomach, the agitation that’s been plaguing him since he left the station is back, and he can’t wait to get Buck naked and under him tonight so he can get off this emotional rollercoaster of a day. 

The rest of the evening is uneventful as they have dinner and watch a movie. Buck is his usual happy-go-lucky self with his head so full of random trivia Eddie thinks he should go on a game show or something, and Carla’s as sassy and shrewd as ever as she grills Eddie about his shift and his feelings about what happened on that last call. He couldn’t give details, but it helped to work through the sadness and helplessness he felt, and by the time they’re ready to send Chris to bed, he’s no longer agitated. 

He should have known something was wrong when Carla didn't get up and leave as soon as they finished dinner. Should have picked up on the look Buck and Carla kept passing back and forth at dinner, or the fact Buck passed up doing the bedtime routine with Chris. But he didn’t, and it catches him by surprise when he comes back from tucking Chris in to find Buck seated in the living room couch and Carla in the love seat, their faces mirroring each other’s concern. 

Unease pools icy cold in his gut, and he eyes them both with suspicion. “What’s going on?”

Buck pats the empty spot next to him on the couch. “Eddie, you should come and sit down.”

Eddie wants to protest, wants to cross his arms and stand his ground until they tell him what the hell is going on, but one look at Buck’s face melts all the fight in him. He sighs and crosses the room, sitting down next to Buck with a neat three inches of space between them. 

“So, Christopher told us that a nice lady came to speak with him today at school,” Carla says, her usual teasing tone replaced by something solemn, and the back of Eddie’s neck prickles with fear. “Buck and I are pretty sure it’s Children and Youth Services.”

“What?” Eddie’s whole body freezes as if his flesh has turned to ice. Children and Youth? Why would they be speaking with Chris? Did something happen at school? Why hasn’t Carla said anything to him?

“We don’t know exactly,” Buck adds quickly. “But from our collective experiences, we’re ninety-nine percent sure.” 

Eddie’s eyes dart from Buck to Carla and back to Buck. “How?”

“I spoke with a lot of nice ladies”—Buck puts air-quotes around the words nice ladies—“back in my day.”

And that helpless rage returns with a vengeance, melting the ice in Eddie’s veins. He lays a hand on Buck’s knee and squeezes, and Buck covers his hand with his own. “I’m sorry.”

Buck shrugs. “This isn’t about me. What’s important is that CYS spoke to Chris and we don’t know why.”

Dread chases away rage, and Eddie’s reeling so hard he can’t keep up with the onslaught of emotions wreaking havoc through him. “Why would they want to talk to Chris? What did they talk about? How did you know?”

“Christopher told us,” Carla answers. “He told us that some lady came and talked to him during recess, asking questions about his home life, about you, me, Buck and—”

“Jesus Christ—”

“His relationship with us,” Carla finishes as if Eddie didn’t interrupt her. “Christopher had only good things to say, so you shouldn’t worry.”

Eddie sags and closes the distance between him and Buck, leaning on Buck’s solid form for support. “What now?”

Carla sighs and tucks a dark curl behind her ear. “Nothing. We wait. If it is them, they’ll probably send someone out for a house call next to check out Christopher’s home life for themselves.”

“Should I expect a phone call?”

“No, it’ll be random.”

“Oh, perfect.” Eddie throws up his free hand and huffs.

With his unpredictable work schedule and the fact sometimes they’re unreachable when out on calls, how is Eddie supposed to prepare for a home visit? Would they look upon the fact he’s not home half the time as some sort of negligence? He’s already not winning any father of the year awards, but what if they deem him unfit to care for Chris all together and take him away? 

Fuck, would he lose Chris again because of his choices? Can they take him away just like that? 

Eddie doesn’t realize he’s hyperventilating until Buck’s soothing voice cuts through the ring of darkness closing in around him. “Eddie, Eds, breathe. It’s okay, just breathe.”

A large hand rubs his back, and Eddie focuses on the touch, matching his inhales and exhales to the up-down motion until his chest can expand again without sharp, jabbing pain. He looks up and finds concern swimming in Buck’s wide blue eyes, and next to him, Carla’s on her knees, gripping both of Eddie’s hands in hers. 

“It’s okay, sugar, just breathe,” she soothes. “In, out, in, out, that’s right, just like that.” 

Eddie latches onto her soft voice and lets her further lead him away from the cloud of panic hanging over him. Between Buck’s hand on his back and Carla’s soft voice coaching his breathing, Eddie manages to ground himself. Fear and anxiety make way for a different kind of anger, and Eddie’s grip tightens around Carla’s hands. 

“What happens if I’m not here for the visit?” he asks, and he’s thankful his voice is steady. 

“I’ll be here, and chances are”—she looks to Buck with a soft smile—“Buck will be too. Two out of three ain’t bad.”

“But they’re here to evaluate  _ me,” _ Eddie says, trying not to be sick at the very idea that some stranger is going to come into his home and judge his ability to be a father to his own son. 

“No, they’re here to evaluate Christopher’s home life,” Carla says. “They’re here to see if he’s being taken care of and if he’s loved. And I love that boy like my own.”

“And you know I’d die for Christopher,” Buck adds, his hand stilling on Eddie’s back. 

Eddie believes them both, and for the first time since Shannon died, Eddie can breathe under the crushing weight of single-parenthood. Because he’s not a single parent anymore. Sure, he hires Carla to watch Chris, but she goes above and beyond her job description, and she’s so much more than just a babysitter. And Buck. Fuck. Buck is as much a father to Chris as Eddie is. Between the two of them, Chris has love in spades even if Eddie’s gone, and that is a comforting thought that leaves Eddie feeling lighter than a feather. 

“I know you would.” Eddie drops his head on Buck’s shoulder and sighs. “And I know you love him, you both do. I just—this is all so sudden—why—”

“We don’t know why, Eddie,” Carla says with a sad smile. “And we don’t know who called them. But we can show them Chris is taken care of here. Chances are, they’ll come, watch for a bit, then be gone and we’ll never hear from them again.”

“You think so?” Eddie hates that he sounds so damn hopeful, but he’s with family, and this family won’t judge. 

“I know so. You think this is my first time dealing with CYS?” Carla cocks an eyebrow at him, her usual sass bleeding back into her lopsided grin. “Most times it’s the other way around. Trying to get them to actually do anything is like pulling teeth.”

“Can confirm.” Buck nods. 

“And I won’t—I won’t lose Chris?”

“Oh, honey, it’ll be a cold day in hell before I let that happen.” Carla squeezes his fingers then pushes to her feet with a groan. “My bones are too damn old for kneeling. I see why Buck likes his cushions now.”

Eddie’s cheeks heat, and beside him, Buck squirms. 

“Well, I better be getting going,” she says with a wink. “Got an early start tomorrow.”

“I can drop Chris off at school tomorrow,” Buck offers, then snaps his mouth shut.

Carla gives him a sly look, and her lips twitch into a smirk. “Oh yeah?”

“I mean, if it’s okay with you and Eddie, I can come by—”

“Or you can just stay the night like you were going to anyway,” Eddie teases. His gut is still twisted in every which way with fear and anxiety and anger, but he’s not helpless and definitely not alone. 

Beside him, Buck’s squirming and Carla’s grinning like the cat that ate the canary, and Eddie’s never been more grateful for these people he calls family. After Carla goes home, Buck takes Eddie’s hand and leads him to their bedroom, and Eddie falls asleep cocooned in the solid warmth of Buck’s body wrapped around him. 

===

A week is a long time to be stuck in limbo. 

Eddie scrubs the helmet he’s cleaning extra hard and sighs. Being the newest probie at the station means he gets all the fun jobs, like cleaning the ladders and buffing the helmets and unplugging the toilets, despite the fact he’s been going on calls with the team and doing real firefighter work for the past six months. He gets it, it’s just the hierarchy of things, and on days like today, he doesn’t mind the mundane work because it gives him a place to take out his aggression. 

A week ago, Buck and Carla dropped a bomb in his lap, and even though Carla reassures him every chance she gets that he’s not going to lose Chris, that nagging fear never leaves him alone. He’s not sure when the social worker will come for a house visit, so he cleans the house every day and makes sure Chris and Buck don’t leave their messes around. He knows he’s short and irritable, and Chris and Buck have been good sports about accommodating his neurotic need to keep the house staged for a surprise visit, but when he’s not clouded by his ever-present near-panic, he feels bad for being a control freak and a bit of a jackass.

That didn’t stop him from cleaning his bathroom for the fourth time this week in the morning before dropping Chris off at school then coming to work. Today is his last day shift, and Eddie’s not sure if he’s more relieved or terrified that starting tomorrow he’ll be around after school if the caseworker shows up. 

He finishes buffing the last helmet and throws the rag into the laundry basket. It’s been a slow day at work, which, for their line of work, means it’s been a fantastic day for everyone. Eddie jumps in the shower quickly, then changes into his t-shirt and jeans before saying his goodbyes and heading home. 

Buck has been over every day. He says he needs the distraction while waiting for the randomly selected interview call, but Eddie’s sure he’s hanging around for more than just distracting himself, and Eddie’s grateful for his constant physical presence and mental support. He checks the time on the radio in his truck and smiles. Buck should already be at the house with Carla and Chris, and if Eddie knows his boys, they’d be cooking up something delicious in the kitchen right about now with Carla on standby to lend a helping hand. 

Starting tomorrow, Carla would be staying overnight until Eddie switches back to day shifts, and Eddie wonders if he shouldn’t just ask Carla to become a full-time live-in caregiver. He can afford it with Chris’ financial aid, and it would make life so much easier for her and Chris if she already lives with them. 

Maybe he’ll pitch the idea to her and see what she thinks. 

Rush hour traffic is light for a Monday afternoon, but Eddie doesn’t look a gift horse the mouth as he pulls into the driveway thirty minutes earlier than usual. He puts the truck in park, shuts off the engine, and looks up just as the front door opens. 

A slender woman in a grey pantsuit steps out of the house. She’s gorgeous, with a tall nose, high cheekbones, and cherry red lips that contract beautifully with her pale skin. Her long red hair is tied up in a high pony tail, and in her arms is a thick file folder and a clipboard. Behind her, Buck appears at the doorway, and he’s got his charm-your-pants-off smile splitting his face from ear to ear. He says something, and the woman throws her head back in laughter, and something cold coils low in Eddie’s gut. 

Dread and jealousy is a potent mix, and Eddie closes his eyes and counts to ten before stepping out of his truck. If this is the social worker here for her house visit, then Buck’s putting on the charm for Eddie’s sake. It doesn’t rankle any less to see his man flirt with someone else, though, and Eddie’s heart is racing a hundred miles an hour ahead of his brain. 

The woman extends a manicured hand to Buck. He grips it in a firm shake and says something else that has her chuckling. She wiggles her fingers in a little wave before turning around and heading toward Eddie’s parked truck, and the mirth in her eyes from whatever Buck said to her is replaced by polite professionalism when she spots him. 

He gets out of the truck quickly and wipes his palm down the side of his jeans before extending it toward her. “Hi, I’m Eddie Diaz, Chris’ father.”

“Hi, Mr. Diaz, my name’s Charlotte Cole,” she says, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake before letting go. “I’m the social worker assigned to your son’s case.”


	24. Chapter 24

Buck lays a hand on the small of Eddie’s back and ushers him to the love seat before pulling a cushion onto the floor and taking his spot by Eddie’s feet. Eddie’s stiffer than a day-old corpse and Buck wants to help him relax. To Charlotte’s credit, she doesn’t bat an eye at the display of the power dynamic in their relationship, not that Buck thinks she would. He’s good at reading people, and from the brief chat he had with Charlotte before Eddie got home, she seems like good people. 

“Where’s Chris and Carla?” Eddie looks around as if they’re hiding behind the couch. 

“They went out for a walk,” Buck says. “Charlotte suggested it. Figured it would be easier.” 

“Hm.”

Eddie’s hand finds its way to the back of Buck’s neck, and Buck can’t ignore the tremor in Eddie’s fingers. The poor guy must be freaking out, though he’s got a good poker face on. Buck’s nervous too, but he figures the best way to handle this is to be honest and true to who they are. And this is who they are, a family with a Dominant and a Submissive, a sassy Neutral, and the best son a man can ask for. 

“So,” Charlotte says as she rubs the crystal studded leather bracelet around her wrist absentmindedly. “I was just telling Mr. Buckley—”

“Please, call me Buck.”

She nods with a smile. “As I was telling Buck, this is just a courtesy house call. I’m here to ask a few questions and take a look around. And if you have any questions for me, please feel free to ask.”

Eddie takes a deep breath and his grip around Buck’s neck tightens. “Okay. Uh, would you like something to drink? A water? Tea? Coffee?”

Charlotte smiles and shakes her head. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Okay. So, questions then,” Eddie says, and Buck doesn’t miss the nervous quiver in his voice he knows Eddie’s trying to suppress. 

Charlotte slips a piece of paper from the thick folder in her lap and clips it to her clipboard. She scans the sheet quickly, then pulls a pen from her bag. “What’s your work schedule like?” 

“It varies,” Eddie answers. “We have rotating shifts: morning, day, and overnight. Oh, and occasionally twenty-four hour too.”

“What do you do for childcare?” 

“Carla is our full time caregiver. She picks Chris up from school and stays the night when I’m on overnights.”

“But this isn’t her full time residence?”

“No, it isn’t.” Something flashes across Eddie’s face, but before Buck has a chance to process it, it’s gone. 

She hums and scribbles something on her sheet of paper, and Eddie’s grip tightens further around Buck’s neck. Buck leans his head on Eddie’s knee and touches his ankle, and Eddie’s fidgeting leg stills. Charlotte asks more questions about Eddie’s work, about Carla and her background, and Eddie sits straighter when he rattles off Carla’s credentials. Buck’s impressed with how thoroughly Eddie did his homework before hiring Carla, and he’s doubly impressed with how extremely qualified Carla is for this job. 

“Does Mr.Buckley—Buck—live here?” 

“No.”

“But I’m over frequently,” Buck adds. “Now that I’m applying to be a firefighter, I’ve cut my hours working at the community center and passed my cooking class to someone else, but I still really enjoy showing Christopher new recipes.”

“You teach cooking?”

“I did, yeah,” Buck says. “When the local community centre underwent renovation, I pitched the idea to have a cooking class for kids so we can get more children excited about cooking.”

Charlotte jots down more notes and her smile widens. “That’s really wonderful. I wish my parents let me in the kitchen more as a kid, but mom was afraid I’d kill myself and burn down the house in the process, so she always shooed my brother and I out whenever she cooked.”

“I think that’s the case with a lot of people, it’s sorta why I pitched the idea in the first place.”

“It’s a great idea, and I’m glad someone is taking over,” she says. “So, you’re applying to be a firefighter, too?”

“Yes.” Buck kneels straighter and lifts his chin. He doesn’t mean to come off defiant, but this tiny part of him that still struggles with the idea that he is actually doing this makes him feel like he needs to defend his decision. 

“Not an easy job for a Submissive,” she remarks and touches her bracelet again. 

“Nothing worth doing is ever easy,” Buck replies. “It’s something I’ve wanted to do since I was a kid. And I can’t be telling Christopher he can do anything he puts his mind to it if I don’t lead by example, right?”

Her professional smile softens into something genuine and a bit sad, and Buck’s chest aches for her. She gets it. That bracelet is definitely more than just a piece of jewellery. She clears her throat and looks back down at her clipboard, and when she looks up again, she’s schooled her expression into something neutral. 

“You and Christopher get along?” 

“Oh, absolutely. He’s a wonderful kid.” Buck’s lips pull into a wide smile like they always do when he talks about Christopher. “Smart, quick learner, fantastic cook. He’s got a real talent or it, unlike his dad.” Eddie’s knee bumps him in the shoulder and Buck shoots him a side-ways glance. “What? It’s true.”

Eddie glares at him despite Charlotte’s chuckle. “It’s obvious Christopher isn’t starving or malnourished, so I think you’re okay on the food front.” 

Buck kisses the side of Eddie’s knee, then winks up at him before turning his attention back to Charlotte. Eddie strokes the back of his neck, and a single finger creeps higher to tickle behind Buck’s ear. 

“How did you two meet?” Charlotte sits back and crosses her ankles, her clipboard balanced on her knees. 

“Eddie and Chris came to my cooking class.” Buck beats Eddie to the answer and glances up to shoot Eddie a smile. “Then it turns out he works for my dad at the firestation, and the rest is history.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie says with a huffed chuckle, and he relaxes for the first time since they started the questions. “Trust me, don’t ever fall for your boss’ kid, especially if your boss is the Captain of a fire station. Literally the scariest shovel talk I’ve ever had.”

Charlotte laughs, and she slips her pen back into her bag before tucking the sheet of paper back into her file folder. Buck lets out a slow breath, and Eddie’s grip around the back of his neck relaxes. 

“Well, thank you for your candor.” She slips her clipboard and folder into her bag. “I’d like to take a quick look around the house if you don’t mind, then I’ll be on my way.” 

The three of them stand up, and Buck winces as his knees protest his sudden movement. They head into the kitchen, and Buck and Eddie hang back while Charlotte looks through the cabinets, pantry, and fridge. The kitchen is spotless, and Buck doesn’t miss Eddie’s relieved sigh. 

After the kitchen, they tail her upstairs and into Christopher’s room. Eddie reaches for Buck’s hand as they wait in the hallway just outside, and Buck threads their fingers together and squeezes. He wants to kiss that worried frown from Eddie’s brows because he knows exactly what Charlotte is going to find. 

There’s so much love in Christopher’s room, from the bright, yellow paint to the large space stickers decorating the walls to the warm clean sheets and neatly folded laundry. Despite Carla’s repeated offers, Eddie always does the laundry and cleaning himself. It’s not that Eddie doesn’t trust Carla to do a good job, so Buck suspects it has something to do with feeling like he’s making up for missing out on Christopher’s earlier years. 

The sound of a drawer opening and closing pulls Buck from his thoughts. Beside him, Eddie’s fidgeting with the hem of his shirt with his other hand. Buck covers those fidgeting fingers with his own, and this time, he darts in and brushes his lips across Eddie’s in a quick kiss. 

“It’ll be fine,” he murmurs. “If she comes out holding a condom, I’ll say it slipped out of my pocket during story time last night.”

Eddie blinks, then shakes his head as he suppresses a chuckle, and Buck’s chest swells. “God, I don’t even want to know why a ten-year-old boy would have condoms in his room.” 

Buck winks. “Kids grow up fast these days.”

“Not that fast.” Eddie rolls his eyes and groans, but his smile is soft and his shoulders finally fall away from his ears. 

It’s another few minutes before Charlotte emerges from Christopher’s room, and the butterflies in Buck’s stomach disappears when her face splits in a wide smile. 

“Gentlemen, I’m all done here,” she says as she adjusts the straps of her bag on her shoulder. “Everything looks fantastic, so I’ll just be on my way. You can expect a followup from the agency in about a week, give or take a few days.” 

“We’re good, then?” Eddie asks, his voice hopeful. 

“Yes, we’re good.” 

They follow her back to the front of the house to the door. She slips on her shoes, then turns and holds out her hand. “You have a lovely home, Mr. Diaz.” 

Eddie takes her hand in a firm grip. “Thank you, and thanks for coming out.”

“My pleasure.” She lets go of Eddie’s hand then turns to Buck. “And it was nice meeting you, Buck.”

“Likewise.” Buck takes her hand and gives it a good shake. 

Eddie holds the door open for Charlotte and waits until she’s in her car and pulling out of the driveway before shutting it. The house is suddenly very quiet, and the look on Eddie’s face mirrors the twisting in Buck’s gut. Was that it? Did they pass? Buck was so focused on helping Eddie relax that he doesn’t realize just how wound up he is until Charlotte’s gone, and the weight of what just happened crashes down on him. 

“Jesus Christ, Eds,” Buck whispers, “let’s never do that again, okay?”

Eddie closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and when he opens them again, they’re swimming with relief. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

“You did awesome,” Buck says and shoves Eddie’s shoulder playfully. 

He expects Eddie to shove him back or to waggle his eyebrows in that way he always does when he knows he did a good job, but he doesn’t do either. Instead, Eddie falls into Buck’s arms and buries his nose in the crook of Buck’s neck. Strong arms slip around Buck’s waist, and Buck wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders in a protective circle. 

If that was stressful for Buck, he can’t imagine just how nerve-wracking and stomach-churning that must have been for Eddie. This is Eddie’s home, his  _ life _ , that some stranger just walked through. Sure, she was a nice stranger with a reassuring smile, but that doesn’t change the fact  _ someone _ out there thought it was appropriate to report Eddie to Children and Youth Services. 

He wants answers. Wants to know who and why, but like many things in life, just because he wants them doesn’t mean he’s going to get them, so Buck focuses on the things he  _ can _ control, and that’s making sure Eddie’s okay. 

“Thank you, Evan,” Eddie mumbles into Buck’s neck, the words warm as they tickle his skin. “I don’t know if I’d have made it through that without you. And Carla.”

Buck strokes along Eddie’s back until the taut muscles relax under his touch and Eddie’s arms hang slack around his waist. “Don’t thank me. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

“And where’s that?”

“Standing by your side.” 

Eddie pulls back and searches Buck’s face. Whatever he’s looking for, he must have found it because his lips twitch into a lopsided smile, and his eyes are so full of warmth and love Buck wants to get lost in them forever. His mouth opens, but before he can say anything else, the front door lock clicks with a jangle of keys. 

They jump back just as the door flings open and a very excited Christopher flies into the house. 

“Daddy! Buck!” 

Eddie picks Christopher up in a crushing hug, and Buck’s chest swells with so much affection he thinks it’ll explode. Watching Eddie with Christopher was bittersweet at first. It reminded Buck of all the things he lost all those years ago, but now it just fills him with love because this is his family, too. As if on cue, Christopher wiggles out of Eddie’s arms and hugs Buck’s legs. 

“You boys want dinner?” Carla pipes up as she holds up two plastic bags filled to the brim with foam take-out boxes. 

Buck picks Christopher up and plants a kiss on his cheek, then turns to Carla and sniffs the air and his mouth waters. “Is that Chinese?”

“You bet.”

“Did you get the itty bitty spare ribs?”

“Do bears poop in the woods?” 

Eddie laughs and pulls off Christopher’s shoes, and the four of them make their way to the kitchen with Christopher still in Buck’s arms. He sets Christopher down in his chair, then helps Eddie and Carla grab plates and utensils. It takes them a few minutes to spread everything out on the table, and by the time Buck’s seated and armed with his fork, his stomach has sang for its supper repeatedly. 

And Carla did not disappoint. 

Beside his favourite spare ribs, Carla picked up a feast fit for a king. Sweet and sour pork, spicy chilli eggplant, pea shoots sautéed in garlic, chilli green beans, house special fried rice with shrimp and BBQ pork, and a side of steamed buns for Christopher.

Buck piles his plate high and tucks in, and it’s not until he’s half way through his mountain of food that he realizes he started eating before Eddie did. And that the realization did not fill him with dread. As if sensing the change in Buck, Eddie looks up from across the table and cocks a brow at him, and Buck shakes his head. He basks in the comfort of sitting at Eddie’s table. Of belonging in a space that he chose. It’s still odd at times, but Buck’s slowly getting used to it. 

It’s another few quiet moments of chewing before Eddie sits back and pats his stomach. “God, but LA has the best Chinese food.” 

Carla smirks. “I’m sure every Chinese person in China agrees with you.” Eddie rolls his eyes and huffs out an exasperated sigh. Carla laughs, picks up her plate, and rinses it in the sink. “And on that note, I should head home and leave you gentlemen to your evening.” 

“Speaking of that,” Eddie says quickly, and the tone of his voice freezes the spare rib half way to Buck’s lips. “I was hoping to run something by you.”

Carla quirks an eyebrow and takes a seat back at the table. “What’s going on, sugar?”

Eddie swallows and pokes at some sauce on his plate. He’s nervous, and it both intrigues Buck and puts him on edge. What’s going on?

“So, I had a thought,” Eddie starts, pauses, and chews on his lower lip.

“Oh, just spit it out,” Carla chides, and Eddie chuckles with a shake of his gorgeous head. Buck holds his breath and puts down his spare rib. 

“Would you like to move in with me?” 

“Excuse me?” Carla’s eyes pop, and she looks as shocked as Buck feels. 

“I mean like, a live-in nanny sort of, except you’ll only need to watch Christopher like you’ve been doing now and none of the house work and stuff if you don’t want to,” Eddie adds quickly. “That way you won’t have to come early or leave late or stay overnight based on my schedule. You’ll still have your space, of course, and I’ll still take care of Chris when I’m home. I just figured this might be easier on you and Chris, and if this is a stupid idea, please just say no and we can pretend I never said anything.”

Carla’s lips are stretched in an amused smile, but her expression is soft as she reaches across the table and pats Eddie’s hand. “You’re sure about this? I’ve got a cat and my daughter visits me every other month from out of town. It can get pretty crazy.”

“Chris always wanted a pet.”

“It’s true,” Chris pipes up. “But we can’t because of daddy’s work schedule.” 

“We have the spare room in the basement that we can turn into a guest room. And you can take the room you stay in now when you stay overnight,” Eddie says. “You already spend so much time here that this is as much your home as it is ours.” 

Buck had no idea Eddie was going to propose this arrangement, and now that he has, it makes perfect sense. It would be a smart move for everyone. Carla wouldn’t have to commute so much, and Buck and Eddie can stop worrying about her getting home safely on those late nights when Eddie gets stuck at work. It would also give Chris some more stability. 

Carla sits back in her chair and worries at her bottom, and it’s another quiet moment before her face breaks into a smile. “I’ll talk to the agency. I can’t see why they’d be against it, and it would be nice to not have to deal with that grumpy old neighbour of mine anymore.” 

Eddie lets out a happy sigh. “That’s fantastic. Just let me know what you need from me.”

“You know it, sugar.” 

They finish dinner and clean up the kitchen before Carla leaves, and when Eddie asks if Buck’ll stay the night, Buck replies with a thorough kiss. 

===

The application process to become a LAFD firefighter is complicated, but no test, written or physical or otherwise, is worse than this endless wait for that damn phone call. Due to high numbers of applicants during every intake, candidates who pass all their tests are still contacted based on a random selection process. What if he doesn’t win the lottery this year? Would it be a sign that he should give up or just apply again next year? 

Buck tries not to think about it as he fluffs brown rice infused with gloves and cinnamon in the pot. Ever since Eddie put him on his training regime, Buck finds himself hungry all the damn time, and if he doesn’t have food prepared and ready to go, he’ll eat whatever junk he can get his hands on. No one can out train a bad diet, that’s training one-oh-one, so he’s taken up meal prepping twice a week to combat his body’s constant demand for fuel. 

It’s also his way of keeping busy and sane so he doesn’t go out of his mind with what-ifs and maybes, even if it doesn’t stop him from jumping every time his phone rings. 

Buck sighs and glances at the dark screen of his phone for the millionth time this morning, then turns back to slicing chicken breasts that were brined and marinated in a miso citrus sauce then oven roasted to perfection. Just because he’s meal prepping doesn’t mean it has to be dry protein steamed broccoli every meal for the rest of his life. 

There’s something satisfying about cooking delicious food that’s also good for you. Health doesn’t have to mean compromise in flavour, and it didn’t take Buck long to find the right balance that works for him. Eddie thinks he should start a meal prep catering business, and if Buck didn’t already have his mind set on becoming a firefighter, this would be a fantastic idea. 

At the thought of Eddie, Buck pauses on the last chicken breast he’s slicing and looks up and stares out his kitchen window. It’s mid-afternoon, which means Eddie’s at work and probably doing something cool like prying a baby out of a drainage pipe. It’s the first day this week that Buck decides to stay home and catch up on some house work like cooking and cleaning and laundry, and it feels weird to not be hanging out with Christopher and Carla while they wait for Eddie to come home. 

He’s at Eddie’s place so much it almost makes sense for  _ him _ to move in, too. Buck chuckles and shakes his head, then goes back to slicing chicken. It’s a big step to take, moving in with someone, and as much as he would love the idea, he doesn’t want to move too quickly and ruin this amazing thing he has with Eddie. Sure, he’s a little jealous that Carla’s moving in, but he also knows this is good for both Carla and Christopher. 

The oven timer interrupts his wishful thinking, and Buck jumps before shutting off the loud beeping. He dons his oven mitt and pulls out two trays of steaming roasted vegetables, inhaling deeply as the aroma of herbs and spices mixed with the natural sweet scent of bell peppers, zucchini, mushrooms, and carrots permeate the air. With all the food cooked and ready to go, Buck grabs a stack of meal prep containers from the cabinet and starts dividing rice, chicken, and vegetables into each. 

His phone buzzes on the counter, and Buck’s breath catches in his throat before he spots Eddie’s smiling face on the screen. The butterflies in his chest quiets, and the nervous dread in the pit of his stomach is replaced by something warm. He abandons his mountain of half packaged food as he grabs his phone off the counter and presses the green answer button. 

“Hey, bab—”

“Buck, is he with you? Please tell me he’s with you.” Eddie’s panicked voice wipes the smile off Buck’s face. 

“Who?”

“Chris. Is Chris with you?”

Buck’s blood turns to ice and a high-pitched whine rings in his ears, growing louder and louder until he can barely hear himself speak. “Christopher is missing?”

“Shit,” Eddie spits. “He’s not with you then.”

“No.” Buck grabs his keys off the kitchen counter and rushes out the door. “When? How?”

“Carla went to pick him up from school but he wasn’t at his usual spot,” Eddie says, his voice tight. “His teacher said he left the classroom and has no clue where he is.”

“Shit.” Buck jumps into his car and starts the engine, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder as he yanks on his seatbelt. “Where are you?”

“On my way to the school.”

“I’ll head over, too. Did you call the cops?”

“Not yet. Gonna meet up with Carla and the principal first. They were doing a sweep of the school grounds when she called me.”

“Maybe he just lost track of time playing with his friends,” Buck says, trying to convince Eddie as much as he’s trying to convince himself. “But I’ll call Athena anyway.” 

“Okay,” Eddie replies, then a soft choked sob echos through the speaker. “Fuck, Ev, I don’t—what if—I should have—”

“Eddie. Eddie, listen to me,” Buck cuts in, and he’s glad his voice isn’t shaking like the rest of him. He takes a deep breath and white-knuckles the steering wheel, willing the swelling panic at bay. He can’t freak out now, not when Eddie’s already sick with worry. “Don’t do this to yourself. This isn’t your fault. We don’t even know if he’s actually missing. Just hang in there and I’ll be there asap, okay?”

After a moment of loaded silence broken by Eddie’s shuddering inhales, he croaks, “Okay.” 


	25. Chapter 25

Eddie tries to keep it together for Carla, who’s been wringing the hem of her shirt since he arrived at the school ten minutes ago. If he’s being honest with himself, putting on a face for her is the only thing keeping him from breaking down in the middle of the principal’s office. 

By the time he got here, Carla already made the executive decision to call the police after she and the principal and two other administrative staff combed through the school building and came up empty-handed. No traces of Christopher, and all the kids in his class are already gone. 

When he spoke with the officer who arrived at the school minutes after he did, he tried to remember what Chris was wearing when he left for school this morning. Eddie was there. They had breakfast together, but it was Carla who provided the police officer with a description of Chris' outfit. Guilt and dread toss the contents of his stomach. What kind of father is he if he can’t even remember what his son was wearing this morning? The kind that loses his goddamn kid. Maybe CYS should have taken Chris when they had the chance. Now, they’ll be lucky if they find a corpse.

Eddie swallows back bile and fishes his phone out of his pocket. He shoots Buck a text, letting him know where to find them once he gets here. Sitting next to him, Officer McNally is speaking with Chris’ teacher. 

“He packed up his things and said his goodbye like he always did,” Mrs. Jones says. “Then he walked out of the classroom with a group of other kids.”

“Did he mention anything about someone else picking him up today?”

Mrs. Jones shakes her head, and the frown etched between her brows deepens. “Not that I can remember.”

“And you’re sure he didn’t leave with a friend?” 

“I can’t say,” she says. “Chris has a lot of friends, but I didn’t overhear anything about an after school playdate.” 

“And we didn’t plan one,” Carla offers when Officer McNally looks up in their direction. 

“What about other family members? Or another friend who could have picked him up?” 

“No. It’s just me and Chris and Carla and my boyfriend, Buck.” 

“And he’s not with your boyfriend right now?”

“No.” Eddie swallows his frustration and tries to keep as much exasperation out of his voice as possible. The man is just doing his job, running through his checklist, but every minute they spend playing twenty questions is another minute where they could be out there looking for Chris. 

McNally nods, jots down more notes in his notepad, then turns to the principal. “If you have any security footage, we’ll need to see those.”

“Of course,” he says. “Though we already looked through them and didn’t find anything.”

“We’d still like to take a look. A second pair of eyes may pick up something you missed.”

“I’ll have them sent over. Whatever you need.”

Eddie watches the officer jot down more notes, and with each passing moment, his insides twist a little tighter, and it becomes harder and harder to ignore the nausea threatening to turn his guts inside out. He needs to be out there looking for Chris, but where does he even start? Sure, it’s only been an hour since school let out, but whoever took Chris could have gone in any direction and taken him anywhere by now. 

They could have changed his clothes, cut his hair, thrown out his glasses. Every episode of every cold case TV show about missing persons comes back to haunt him, and he can’t help but imagine the worst-case scenario. 

Who would want to kidnap Chris? And why? He’s never heard of a human trafficking case involving a child with CP, but the world is a sick place, and Eddie can’t help but think someone took his little boy so they can profit from hurting him. His chest tightens, and despite his efforts to suck down breaths, it’s as if his lungs are frozen. 

The room spins. The walls shift closer as if threatening to collapse on him. And he’s so damn cold one second and hot the next. 

Someone calls out his name, but the voice sounds far away and distorted, as if Eddie’s underwater. That voice calls his name again and again and again, and Eddie latches onto it like a lifeline as he tries to pull himself to the surface. A large hand wraps around his bicep, and the touch is like a beacon as he breaks through the layers of panic and despair to find Buck’s bright blue eyes staring at him. 

Those eyes are full of concern and fear as they search Eddie’s face. 

“Eddie, baby, it’s okay,” Buck coos as he brushes his thumb across Eddie’s cheek. The palm of his hand is warm, and his touch grounds Eddie enough for him to realize he’s finally breathing again. “Yeah, just like that. Breathe. In, out, in, out. I’m here, we’re all here.”

Eddie looks past Buck and finds Athena in full uniform, speaking with Officer McNally. Her brows are furrowed as she listens, nodding occasionally to indicate she’s listening. Eddie turns his attention back to Buck and takes another shaky breath. 

“You made it.” 

“Of course. Sorry it took me so long. Traffic was shit.” Buck drops his hands in Eddie’s lap and squeezes his thighs. “But we’re here now, and we’re gonna find him.”

“Put out a BOLO for a ten-year-old boy with cerebral palsy matching Christopher Diaz’s descriptions,” Athena says, and when she sees him looking her way, she sends him a reassuring smile before turning back to the other officer. 

“Athena is one of the best,” Buck says, dragging Eddie’s attention back to him. “She’ll do everything in her power to get Chris home safe.”

As if on cue, Athena walks over and lays a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “We’ll do everything we can to find him, Eddie.”

Eddie looks up and swallows. What if her best, the LAPD’s best, isn’t enough? What if they can’t find his little boy? What happens then? Would Chris become yet another number in the LAPD’s cold case files? How does Eddie continue living knowing his boy is out there, lost, alone, possibly dead or worse? 

He wants to scream, wants to lash out, but he doesn’t because it’ll do no one any favours if he loses his shit, least of all Christopher. So he forces the corners of his lips into a smile and nods.

“I’ve already got a BOLO out, and we’re gearing up to declare an AMBER alert,” she continues, her voice softening as she squeezes Eddie’s shoulder with strong fingers. “The best thing you can do now is to go home.”

“You’re asking me to wait?” Anger flares in Eddie’s chest, and it takes everything he has to not shoot out of his chair and stare Athena down. “I should be out there looking for him. I could—.”

“To what end, Eddie?” She asks, and it’s not her words, but the measured tone of her voice that cuts through the red haze crowding Eddie’s vision. “We have no leads, no idea which direction they went. We don’t even know the colour or make of the kidnapper’s car. You going out there running around like a madman won’t help anyone, least of all Christopher.”

She’s right. Eddie knows she’s right. But knowing and feeling are two separate things, and right now his head and his heart are yanking him in opposite directions. 

“Let’s go home, sugar,” Carla says, and her voice is timid, lacking any trace of her usual confidence and sass. “I’m sure the police will contact us as soon as they find something.” 

“Absolutely,” Athena says. “Go home. Try to get some rest so you’re fresh in case we need you for anything.”

Eddie wants to argue, but three pairs of concern-filled eyes render him speechless. He rakes a hand through his hair and nods, then pushes to his feet. He doesn’t remember what he mumbled to the principal and Mrs. Jones before leaving the office. Doesn’t remember which car he got into and who drove them home.

Carla goes into Chris’ room as soon as they step into the house and comes back with a Ziplock bag holding Chris pyjamas and slippers. “Just in case we start a search party. They may have dogs who’ll want something to sniff.” 

Eddie knows she’s just keeping busy to distract herself, and he can’t fault her for not wanting to let her mind stray. He goes into the kitchen and pulls the juice cup Chris drank out of this morning from the dishwasher, setting it aside in case the police want DNA. That’s what they do, right? That’s what they always show on TV. He’s not sure if any of this is necessary, but it keeps the tiny ember of hope burning in his chest. Eddie’s afraid what will happen to his heart if that ember goes out. 

How could he have let this happen? He leans his elbows on the counter and drops his head in his hands, his fingers twisting into his hair. What has he done to deserve this? Who did he piss off upstairs? Is it because he doesn’t pray enough? Is this karma coming back to bite him? Or is this just a crime of convenience? If so, why Chris? Why his boy and not some other kid? 

Guilt lances through him as soon as the thought crosses his mind, and Eddie’s not sure if he wants to laugh or cry. Gentle hands land on his shoulders and pull him from the counter, and Eddie lets himself be maneuvered into a chair. 

He stares down at Buck kneeling in front of him and the dam holding back every emotion warring through him cracks. Terror, guilt, self-loathing, concern, rage, and utter helplessness crash through him in a devastating wave, and Eddie crumples as he falls into Buck’s arms. 

Tears spill down his cheeks, and it’s all Eddie can do to muffle his cries into the crook of Buck’s neck. Buck’s body is warm, and his arms are solid as they slide around Eddie’s shoulders, holding him close. Eddie wraps his arms around Buck’s torso and hangs on for dear life as he shudders and convulses. Tears and snot dampen Buck’s t-shirt collar, but he says nothing, just strokes Eddie’s hair and murmurs sweet encouraging words into Eddie’s ear. 

“Just let it out, baby,” he coos. “Let go. I’ve got you. I’m right here and I’ve got you.”

And Eddie lets Buck hold him up as he crumples. Let’s Buck kiss away the tears even as fresh ones fall. He doesn’t know how long they sit like this on the kitchen floor, but when his wracking sobs finally turn into hiccups and his eyes are dry, the sun is setting beyond the kitchen window. Eddie feels hollow and wrung out, but Buck’s steady presence soothes the jagged edges of his nerves enough for him to pull back and wipe the back of his hand across his snotty nose. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he says, his nasal voice watery. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Buck growls and wipes a hand across his red-rimmed eyes. “Carla’s waiting for us in the living room. Do you want something to eat? Maybe I can make us a couple sandwiches.”

Food is the last thing on Eddie’s mind, but now that he’s had his meltdown, he can see Buck is also agitating for something to do. “I t-think sandwiches would be fantastic.” 

“Why don’t you go sit with Carla,” Buck says as he pushes onto unsteady feet and reaches out a hand toward Eddie. “She could use some company right now, I think.”

Eddie takes Buck’s offered hand and pulls himself off the floor. Buck’s right. Carla must be just as worried sick about Chris as he is. “Okay.” 

He finds Carla curled up on the couch in the living room. The lights are off, and the dying sun casts long shadows across the floor. Eddie sits next to her and lays a hand on her knee. She jerks, but otherwise doesn’t make a move. 

“I’m so so so sorry, Eddie,” Carla murmurs, and it takes Eddie a second to realize she’d spoken. “This is all my fault.”

“What?” Eddie sits up straight and frowns. “How is this in any way your fault?”

“I should have gone earlier.” She straightens and faces Eddie, her usually bright eyes dull with guilt. “I’m usually always early, but I was late today. It’s all my fault. If I were there waiting for him like normal, he wouldn’t be missing right now.”

Eddie picks up her hand and places it between his. He’d love nothing more than to find someone and pin the blame on, but Carla is the last person at fault here. “This isn’t your fault, Carla. I know you, I trust you, I know even if you were late, it wouldn’t have been more than a few minutes—”

“But it was enough, Eddie. It was enough.”

Eddie takes a deep breath and swallows past the lump in his throat. “Whoever did this, this is their fault. They’re the person to blame. Not you, not me, not anyone here.” His words shock him, but now that he’d voiced it, he knows it’s true. It’s not his fault. It’s not anyone’s but the kidnapper’s fault. 

“What if—what if—” She struggles as if she’s afraid to say what Eddie’s too afraid to admit himself, and he squeezes her hand so hard his own aches. 

“Athena will find him. She’s the best of the best,” Eddie says, and he’s not sure if he’s trying to convince Carla or himself. 

Carla opens her mouth, but before she can say another word, Buck comes in with sandwiches and three bottles of water tucked under his arm. Eddie jumps up and grabs the water, placing them on the coffee table while Buck hands a sandwich to Carla. Buck places the other two plates on the coffee table, then grabs a cushion and drops it by Eddie’s feet. 

As they get settled, a strange sense of calm descends upon Eddie. Having Buck by his feet and Carla curled up next to him, knowing he’s not alone while he waits for what could be the worst news of his life, makes each passing minute slightly less maddening. Eddie reaches down and strokes Buck’s hair before picking up his sandwich. 

He has no appetite, but he forces himself to eat anyway, and judging by the mechanical way Carla and Buck are picking at their food, they must feel the same. They eat in silence broken by the occasional crackling of a plastic bottle as someone takes a drink. Eddie’s not sure what happens next. Can he call and ask for updates? Does he just sit here and wait? Should he call Bobby and let him know he won’t be coming into work until they find Chris? 

The doorbell startles him out of his thoughts, and Eddie nearly drops the plate balanced on his knees as he shoots out of the couch and runs to the front door. By the time he has it yanked open, Carla and Buck are crowding behind him, their anxious energy washing over him in waves. 

“May I come in?” Athena asks on the other side of the door.

“Of course, please.” Eddie shuffles back and bumps into Buck. “Is there any news?”

Athena waits until Eddie shuts the door before saying, “We’ve put out an AMBER alert and Christopher’s description is circulating all over town. We have road blocks and the phones have been ringing.” 

“Are there any solid leads yet?” Carla asks, her voice hopeful. 

“A few, actually,” Athena replies. “And we have officers already out following up on those leads. I was in the neighbourhood so I thought I’d drop by and see how y’all are holding up.” 

“As well as can be expected, I guess,” Eddie says as he tries to keep the bitter disappointment from his voice. “Have you eaten? We have sandwiches.” Eddie looks to Buck, who nods. 

“No, but don’t worry about me. Have you gotten any calls?”

“Like, a ransom call?” Buck asks.

“Yes. Has there been any contact at all?”

Eddie shakes his head as fresh fear slithers through his veins. No ransom call means human trafficking, right? Or it could be some sick serial killer out on the prowl for their next victim like those psychos on  _ Criminal Minds.  _ Or maybe—

“Eddie, I can see the gears turning in that pretty head of yours and you need to stop,” Athena chides, and Eddie sucks in a sharp breath. “We don’t know anything definitive. You gotta stop imagining the worst-case scenario.” 

Eddie balls his hands into fists and takes a few deep breaths. “I know. I just—I don’t want to get my hopes up—”

Athena grips Eddie’s chin and shuts him up with a squeeze of her strong, calloused fingers. “Now you listen to me and you listen to me well, Eddie Diaz. You do not get to lose hope. You do not get to give up on your little boy, you hear me?” 

Eddie’s throat closes as tears spring to his eyes. He doesn’t want to give up, and he’s not giving up, but what if he gets his hopes up too high? Can he handle that fall if—if—

“You fight for your son like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do,” Athena continues as she lets go of Eddie’s chin and cups his cheek gently. “And I’ll do my damnedest to make sure he comes home to you. You hear?”

Eddie wants to say yes, but his throat’s too tight and the word won’t come out. He nods, and the movement shakes loose a tear. Athena’s smile is soft and genuine and filled with sadness, but her eyes are shining with conviction as if she’s one hundred percent confident she will find Chris and bring him home. That conviction fuels the dying ember of hope in Eddie’s chest, and he finally swallows past the lump in his throat. 

“Athena,” Eddie starts, “I—” 

And the doorbell rings. 


	26. Chapter 26

The doorbell nearly gives Buck a goddamned heart attack. 

All eyes turn to the door, and Eddie swallows as he looks from Athena to Carla to Buck as if searching for some answer. He looks so lost and afraid it breaks Buck’s heart even further. When Eddie doesn’t move, seemingly paralyzed with fear, Athena reaches for the handle and opens the door. 

Christopher beams up at them on the front porch, and John Kelly stands behind him holding a giant stuffed bunny and a half eaten bag of cotton candy. 

Buck’s breath catches in his throat as relief washes over him like a tidal wave. Beside him, Carla gasps. Eddie makes a strange sound in the back of his throat, then barges past Athena and drops to his knees. He yanks Christopher into his arms, crushing the boy to his chest and burying his nose in Christopher’s shoulder. 

“Daddy?” Christopher wheezes, but he drops his crutches and loops his arms around Eddie’s torso, and the shaking in Eddie’s shoulders intensifies. “Daddy, are you okay?”

Eddie nods as he pulls Christopher even closer. Buck swallows hard, but the tears welling in his eyes spill over anyway. Athena takes his hand and squeezes, and Buck turns and wraps his free arm around Carla’s shoulders, giving her a hard, reassuring squeeze. 

Buck can’t even begin to put into words the emotions coursing through him. Tension flows out of him, leaving him exhausted and deflated, and he wants to collapse in on himself as if all his bones have turned to water. He gives Carla another firm squeeze, then lets go of her and Athena’s hand and kneels next to Eddie. He puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, the other cradling the back of Christopher’s head, and the two break apart long enough to fold Buck into their embrace. 

Christopher hums and kisses Buck’s cheek, and Buck shudders, his arms tightening around the two people who have become the centre of his world. They hang onto each other like this for God knows how long, and it’s Christopher who pulls back first. His big toothy grin is contagious, and Buck finds himself smiling like an idiot as he scrubs the back of his hand across his cheeks, brushing away his tears. 

“Grandpa picked me up from school and took me to the Pier!” Christopher says as he glances up at John. 

Eddie blinks, and he looks as shocked as Buck feels as they both look up sharply at John. The older man avoids their eyes and studies the concrete porch as he presses his lips in a thin line. 

“We had churros and tamales and funnel cake,” Christopher continues, unaware of the hostility flying over his head, “and grandpa got me the biggest bunny at the ring toss game. Then we had cotton candy but I couldn’t finish it so we brought it home. Do you want some?” He takes the bag from John and holds it out to Buck and Eddie. 

“That’s fantastic,” Eddie says. “Why don’t we go inside and get you cleaned up?” He stands up, pulling Buck with him, and shoots John a chilly glare. “All of us.”

“I think I’m too full for dinner, though,” Christopher says over his shoulder as he heads inside. “Please don’t be mad, daddy?”

Eddie inhales sharply and glares at John again before he says, “I’m not mad,  _ mijo,  _ as long as you had fun.” 

Christopher turns and his eyes slit into crescent moons as he smiles and nods. “I did!” 

Carla waits for Christopher to take off his shoes and arrange them neatly in the shoe tray before hugging him and taking him down the hall, leaving Buck, Eddie, Athena, and John in the cramped foyer. 

Relief turns to red hot rage as Buck rounds on John, but before he can get a single word out, Eddie beats him to it. 

“What the  _ fuck _ were you thinking?” Eddie spits. “Taking off with Christopher like that? Why didn’t you call and let me know first? Do you know how worried we were?”

John’s back stiffens and he stands straighter as he glares at Eddie. “Call you? As if you’d answer my call. Besides, I figure you’d be too busy with your side piece to notice.” John looks to Buck, and the distaste in his twisted expression sends a wave of burning shame over Buck. 

He knows he belongs here, that this is his space, yet somehow John Kelly still manages to make Buck feel like an intruder in his own home. Like he’s somehow responsible for breaking up Eddie and Shannon, for Shannon’s death, and for taking Eddie and Christopher away from Texas and the Kellys. 

“Side piece? Too busy to notice?” Eddie shouts, then clamps his mouth shut as he takes a few deep breaths. His firsts clench and unclench by his sides, and when his breathing has calmed down enough for him to speak again, his voice is soft and deadly. “Buck is my partner and I will not allow you to insult him in front of me again. Christopher is my son. You do not get to take him anywhere without my permission.”

John sneers and takes a step forward, and Buck takes one back instinctively. “He’s  _ my  _ grandson. He’s the only thing I’ve got left of Shannon and my family and I will not have you—”

“I’m Sergeant Athena Grant with the LAPD,” Athena says, and there’s a chill in her voice Buck’s only heard on rare occasions. It’s her cop voice, and she only uses it when someone’s about to get their asses kicked. John Kelly didn’t just commit a crime, he also insulted Athena’s son. Buck would feel sorry for him if he isn’t still so angry he’s shaking. “What’s your name, sir?” 

John stills and turns to look at Athena as if noticing her for the first time. “My name is John Kelly,” he replies.

“Are you listed as one of Christopher Diaz’s legal guardians?”

He studies her from head to toe, his eyes lingering on her gun belt, then back up again, and colour drains from his face as he finally registers that there’s an officer of the law standing right here with them. “I—but I’m his grandfather—”

“Are you, or are you not, Christopher Diaz’s legal guardian?” Athena repeats. She hooks her thumbs on her belt buckle, and her expression is blank as she stares John down. 

“I—no. I’m not,” he says, and his shoulders droop. “But it is my God given right to see my grandson. And if this”—he looks to Buck with disdain—“sub gets to—”

Athena’s eyes harden into black pebbles. “Choose your next words very carefully, Mr. Kelly,” she says, her voice chilling Buck to the bone. 

John blanches, and he clamps his mouth shut and swings his angry gaze back to Eddie. “He can’t keep me from seeing my grandson.”

“He can, and he just might if you think kidnapping is the way to go,” Athena says. 

John’s eyes widen, and for the first time tonight there’s fear mixed with the disdain and anger in them. “Kidnapping? Don’t be ridiculous. How is a grandfather taking his grandson to the fare kidnapping?”

“It’s kidnapping when you take the child away from his routine without informing and obtaining consent from a parent or legal guardian.” Athena pulls handcuffs from a pouch attached to the back of her belt. “John Kelly, you’re under arrest for kidnapping—”

“But I brought him back!” 

Buck’s jaw drops as Athena trusses John’s hands behind him and slaps handcuffs around his wrists. As much as Buck despises the man, he doesn’t want to see John—Christopher’s grandfather—get arrested for taking Christopher to the fare. Christopher might think this is somehow his fault, as children so often do, and Buck doesn’t want that no matter how much John deserves it. 

“Wait, Athena,” Eddie cuts in and lays a hand on Athena’s shoulder. She gives him a cold, withering look, and he drops his hand but holds her gaze. “I’m sorry, Sergeant Grant. But is this really necessary?”

She cocks a brow at him. “Are you the police officer here or am I?”

Eddie takes a deep breath. “I just mean he brought Chris back. Isn’t there some other way we can handle this?” 

“Can’t we call it a family dispute and leave it at that?” Buck asks, and Athena pauses with a frown. “I just mean, Christopher’s home. He’s safe and I’m sure Mr. Kelly here won’t do it again.”

John looks as if the last thing he wants is Buck’s help, but he does the first smart thing all evening and keeps his mouth shut. Athena looks between the three of them and sighs. 

“Sorry guys. There’s an AMBER alert out for Christopher. This is serious and it’s not up to me,” she says with an apologetic shrug. “I’ll have to bring him in and process him.”

Eddie looks torn and Buck feels the same. “Do you have to take him in handcuffs?” Buck asks. 

Athena glares at John. “That’s up to him.”

John deflates as the gravity of the situation finally dawns on him, and suddenly he looks old. Really old. 

“I think you can spare him the cuffs, mom,” Buck murmurs to Athena. 

She studies him for a long moment, then her expression softens and she sighs as she uncuffs John. And just in the nick of time as Christopher comes around the corner in his PJs with Carla in tow. 

“Grandpa,” he cries as he flings his arms around John’s thighs. “Thanks for taking me out today. I had a lot of fun.”

John inhales sharply and looks at Buck and Eddie with sincere gratitude. It takes him a moment to school his expression, but when he bends down to hug Christopher, there’s genuine love and affection in his eyes and smile. “I’ve missed you. If you want, grandpa can take you to the fare whenever you want,” he says, and after a moment, adds, “if it’s okay with your father.” 

Eddie’s shoulders relax, and the tension in the room dissipates a little as he nods with a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “Of course.”

Christopher gives John a kiss and another hug before heading to bed with Carla, and Athena leaves with John, sans handcuffs. Buck and Eddie take turns tucking Christopher in, and it doesn’t take much to convince an exhausted Carla to stay the night. 

By the time the house quiets and Buck is slumped on his haunches between Eddie’s spread legs, the moon has risen to spill silvery light across the living room. When he woke up this morning, he didn’t expect the day to bring so much excitement. Now, with Christopher safely asleep in his bed and Eddie no longer flip flopping between murderous and looking like he’s going to be sick, adrenaline and fear drain’s from Buck’s system, leaving behind an emptiness and a bone-deep exhaustion. 

However, despite his desire to sleep for a week, restless energy buzzes through him like a late afternoon coffee, and no matter how much he shifts, he can’t get comfortable on his cushion.

The way things turned out was the best case scenario, but what if it didn't? What if Christopher was really lost? It would destroy them, and the very thought sends a shudder through him. Fresh tears spring to his eyes, and he tries his damnedest to blink them away. What the fuck is he doing? Christopher’s safe. He was never even in any real danger, and isn’t that what’s really important? 

A gentle finger touches Buck’s jaw, and he looks up to find Eddie gazing down at him. There are dark circles under his eyes, and Eddie looks as tired as Buck feels. His knees bounce restlessly, the movement jostling Buck occasionally, and his hand clenches in his lap as if he’s nervous. Whatever Buck’s feeling, Eddie must be experiencing it a hundred times worse, and God knows what awful scenarios are running through Eddie’s mind right now. 

The buzzing under Buck’s skin intensifies, and he realizes that same nervous energy must be thrumming through Eddie. Maybe this isn’t the time, and he’s not sure what the hell he’s doing, but Buck wants to do something, anything, to help Eddie relax, and if he’s being honest, he needs it too. 

Without breaking eye contact, Buck runs his hands up Eddie’s calves, his fingers tentative and hesitant. Eddie’s eyes darken, but he doesn’t say anything as Buck’s hands travel higher and over his knees. Encouraged by the lack of objections, Buck rises to his knees and shuffles as far forward as the couch allows, wedging himself in the vee of Eddie’s spread thighs. 

“What’s on your mind, Buck?” Eddie asks, his soft voice thunderous in the muted room. 

Buck swallows and drops his gaze to where his hands have stilled on the inside of Eddie’s thighs. “I don’t know. I’m just—I want…I don’t know what I want. I’m just so restless, Eds.”

Gentle fingers thread through Buck’s hair, nails scratching across Buck’s scalp, and he purrs as he leans into the touch. His eyes flutter shut, and he basks in the sensation of Eddie’s fingers in his hair. Basks in the warmth of Eddie’s palm, in the prickles of pain as Eddie tugs and strokes his hair, and for the first time tonight, his insides come alive. 

The buzzing under his skin shifts from agitation to anticipation, and Buck finally,  _ finally _ allows himself to collapse as he gives himself over to Eddie. He needs to give up control as much as Eddie needs to take it, and when Eddie’s grip tightens around a fistful of Buck’s hair, the pain only heightens Buck’s need to be dominated. 

Eddie removes Buck’s hands from his thighs gently, and Buck whimpers when warm, moist breath ghosts the shell of his ear. “Keep your eyes closed and clasp your hands behind your back.”

Buck shudders as he brings his hands to his back and grips his wrists. The couch shifts, and the scrape of Eddie’s zipper reverberates through Buck. 

“Good boy,” Eddie whispers in his ear, and the praise and Eddie’s next word send another shiver through him. “Open.”

Buck’s mouth opens without hesitation and Eddie guides his head forward. Something warm and soft and heavy flops on his tongue, and Buck’s immediate reaction is to close his lips around it and suck. Pressure on his jaw stops him, and Buck whines as his tongue quivers under the weight of what must be Eddie’s cock. 

“You’re going to warm my cock, Buck,” Eddie says, his voice soft but strained. “Don’t move your tongue, don’t suck, and don’t get me hard, got it?”

Buck’s mind reels from the odd request. He’s never had anyone ask him to simply hold their soft penis in his mouth and not make it hard. Is that even possible? What if Eddie gets hard anyway? Would that be Buck’s fault or Eddie’s? Is he setting Buck up to fail? Some doms like to play that game just so they can punish their subs, but Buck never pegged Eddie as the sadistic type. Despite his skepticism, Buck nods and settles on his haunches, then gingerly closes his lips around Eddie’s cock and holds it on his tongue. 

Eddie’s legs fall away from him, and his hand withdraws from Buck’s hair. The only thing connecting them is Eddie’s soft dick in Buck’s mouth, and Buck strains to stay still as the heat and weight and smell of Eddie washes over him. Buck’s no stranger to being still, but usually there’s still something actively being done to him. This new stillness is strange yet oddly satisfying. He’s focused but not, tethered yet floating, and he finds his mind rapidly emptying as he sinks into this task of doing absolutely nothing. 

A warm hand guides his head to rest on Eddie’s jean-clad thigh, taking some pressure off his neck, and Buck sighs. Occasionally, he teases the tip of his tongue against the soft shaft, and each time Eddie grunts in warning and Buck stills once more. His own cock stirs and quiets, and before long, Buck stops caring. 

Shrouded in darkness, Buck loses track of time and time loses its meaning. He could have been here for a few minutes or a few hours, and it makes no difference to Buck. Despite the fact Eddie’s not touching him at all, he can feel Eddie all around him. The scent of Eddie’s body wash mixed with his musk, the warmth of his thigh beneath Buck’s cheek, the weight of Eddie’s gaze, the taste of his skin, they ground Buck even as he floats into subspace. 

It’s so tranquil, so serene, and Buck never wants to open his eyes again as contentment wraps around him. The events of the day fade until they seem unreal, as if they happened to someone else, and the fear and uncertainty fade with it. Reality becomes hypotheticals, which in turn simply disappears from his mind as he drifts. 

“Buck,  _ cariño,” _ comes Eddie’s soft voice, and Buck stirs. “Still with me?”

Buck rouses and starts to sit up when he remembers Eddie’s cock in his mouth. He stills, eyes still closed, and takes a tentative breath through his nose. 

“Open your eyes, baby,” Eddie coos, and Buck blinks slowly. 

The room is bathed in dim moonlight, but it’s still too bright, and Buck sucks in a sharp breath. Eddie eases his cock, still soft, from Buck’s lips, and Buck makes a desperate noise in the back of his throat. He wants it back, not ready to part with it just yet, and Eddie chuckles as he pulls Buck off his knees and into his lap. 

Buck’s cheek is wet, and he looks down between his legs to find a large wet spot on the inside of Eddie’s thigh. “Oh god—”

“It’s okay,  _ cariño,” _ Eddie murmurs into the crook of Buck’s neck and nuzzles the sensitive flesh there. “You were so good, baby. So amazing. Like always.”

Buck preens under the attention and praise, and he drops his too-heavy head on Eddie’s shoulder. His whole body is lax, and his bones feel like putty as he melts into Eddie’s embrace. His brain is hazy, but his mind is clear as if he’d just woken up from a good night’s sleep. 

“I didn’t even know I needed that,” Buck says. “Thank you.”

“Thank  _ you _ , Buck,” Eddie replies. “I really needed that from you.”

“This is why we make a good team, right? Though, I gotta say, I’ve never done that before.”

Eddie pulls back and cocks a brow at him. “Never?” Buck shakes his head and Eddie grins. “Popped your cock warming cherry.” 

Buck groans and drops his head back on Eddie’s shoulder. “When you say it like that, that’s just weird.”

Eddie hums contently but doesn’t reply, and they bask in this moment a little longer before Buck breaks the silence.

“What’re you gonna do about, you know, John.”

Eddie sighs. “I guess I gotta go bail him outta jail.” 

“And?”

“I’m not going to press charges,” he says, his voice guarded. 

“I assumed as much. But then what?”

Eddie is quiet for another long moment, then he says, “I think he and I need to have a chat. Something’s going on. We’ve never been friendly, but he was never cruel. His wife is one of the happiest subs I’ve ever met. You can’t fake that sort of glow, you know?”

Buck has a hard time imagining John Kelly as anything but a cruel and mean Dominant. “If you say so.”

Eddie kisses the side of Buck’s neck and sighs. “I think I better go get the old man before he thinks he’s spending the night behind bars. Don’t wait up.”

“Actually, figured I’ll go back to my place unless you want me here when you two hash it out.” Buck twists in Eddie’s lap and presses a kiss to the crease between Eddie’s brows. “Carla’s here to look after Christopher in the morning.”

Eddie’s frown deepens. “This is your home, too, Buck. You don’t have to leave on his account.”

“I know that, but I’m not leaving because I’m scared of him or anything,” Buck says, and he realizes it’s the truth. “I just don’t want to put him on the defensive when you’re trying to have a heart-to-heart.”

John Kelly terrified him, but he’s not afraid anymore. Not after the way Eddie stood up for him, and definitely not after seeing the defeated old man that John Kelly actually is. When Athena slapped those cuffs on him, there was a familiar sadness in John that Buck recognized. It was the same sadness that plagued him all those years ago when he realized his family was really gone. 

He agrees with Eddie, that there may be more to the story than meets the eye, and he wants to give them space to work things out. It seems to Buck that John just wants his family back, and Buck can never begrudge anyone for that.

Eddie studies him for a beat longer, then leans in and kisses him. It’s a fierce kiss, but underneath the firm press of lips and insistent tongue is a tenderness that takes Buck’s breath away. 

“I love you,” Eddie murmurs into Buck’s mouth, and Buck can taste the truth in those three little words. 

“Love you, too.” 


	27. Chapter 27

Eddie glances at John in the passenger seat as he pulls out of the police station parking lot and onto the road. Thanks to Buck, Eddie’s relaxed, and without all that anger blinding him, he can see that John is hurting. He just doesn’t know why. 

“Thanks for bailing me out,” John says gruffly. “I’ll pay you back.”

Eddie shrugs and keeps his eyes on the road. “When’s your hearing?”

“In thirty days.” 

“Hm.” 

They don’t talk for the rest of the drive home, and John stares out the passenger window the entire way. It’s not until they get out of the car and John heads for his rental parked on the side of the road that Eddie breaks the silence. 

“John, wait,” he calls out. John stops and looks up, his expression unreadable. “Can we talk?” 

He hesitates, and for a second Eddie thinks he's going to refuse before his shoulders slump and he nods. “Yeah, sure.”

“C’mon, let’s go inside and I’ll put on a pot of coffee.” Eddie locks his truck and motions for John to follow before walking toward the front door. 

The house is dark save for the lamp Eddie left on in the living room. As John follows him into the kitchen, Eddie’s not sure how to approach this conversation. He knows why John hates him, and honestly, he can’t blame the guy. What would he do if someone did to Christopher what Eddie did to Shannon? 

John takes a seat at the dinner table, and Eddie busies himself with the coffee maker. He’s still mad, but he’s not sure where to direct his anger anymore. It’s his fuckup that led them down this road, so Eddie’s only got himself to blame. Apart from kidnapping Chris, he’s ready to put the rest behind him if John hasn’t been such an asshole to Buck. 

Buck doesn’t deserve John’s anger. He’s done nothing wrong save for loving Eddie, and he’s taken it all in stride like a champ despite John’s rudeness toward him. Eddie can let a lot slide, especially with his in-laws, but he can’t— _won’t_ —let this go. 

He waits until the last few drops of coffee drip into the carafe before pulling two mugs from the cabinet. His back is turned to John, but he can feel John’s eyes on him, following his every move, and Eddie tries not to fidget under the scrutiny. 

“How do you take your coffee?”

“Just some milk if you have any.” 

Eddie grabs milk from the fridge and fixes their coffees. He places a mug on the dinner table in front of John, then takes a seat across from him. Eddie has questions that need answers and suspicions that need confirmation, and if there’s ever a time for them to clear the air, it’s now. He clears his throat, but John beats him to it. 

“I’m sorry, Eddie, for what happened today,” he says. 

His eyes are sincere when he looks up from his mug, and the flames of Eddie’s anger subside. Eddie’s not sure what he expected from John, but a sincere apology was not it, and it catches him off guard. He’s not ready to accept the apology, not ready to say that things are okay and they can move on, because he’s not sure if he can ever move past the fear and anxiety John put him through this afternoon. 

“I don’t know what to say, John,” Eddie replies. “It’s not okay. _I’m_ not okay. Far from it. You scared the living daylights out of me by taking off with Christopher.” He takes a deep breath and holds the air in his lungs, trying and failing to find a less blunt way to say what he’s about to say. “Did you call Children and Youth on me?” 

John licks his dry lips and looks down into his mug for a long moment. The muscle in his jaw twitches, and he grips the ceramic between his hands like it’s a lifeline. When he finally looks up and locks eyes with Eddie, there’s so much sorrow in them it takes Eddie’s breath away. 

“Yeah, I did. And I’m really sorry about that, too.”

Eddie suspected as much, but to hear those words from John’s lips still hurt. “Why?”

John swallows and takes a sip of his coffee before he answers. “Martha passed away last month.”

“What?”

“Lung cancer. When they found out it was already too late.” John takes a deep, shuddering breath and rolls the mug between his palms, his eyes dropping to stare into its depth once more. “The tumours were on the bottom, so she didn’t feel anything until she started coughing up blood. She went suddenly, and then it was just me.” 

Eddie wants to reach across the table and take John’s hand, but he forces himself to stay put. As a traditionalist and a Dominant, that sort of show of contact is the last thing John would want. “Jesus, John, I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he says, and there’s a faraway look in his eyes. “Before she passed, she told me her biggest regret was letting you boys go without reaching out. That she’d give anything to see her grandson again. I should have reached out to you then, but I was too damn stubborn and by the time I got over my pride, it was too late.” 

Eddie wants to offer his condolences, wants to say something to fill the suffocating silence between them, but he can’t find the words. His mother-in-law was always courteous toward him even if there was no love between them, and to hear that she’d passed away and Eddie never got to pay his respects rankles. 

When he and Chris left, he didn’t make any efforts to salvage whatever relationship was left between himself and his in-laws. He was angry, hurt, alone with a child, and he was running out of money and options. He never thought how his decision to leave Texas would affect those who loved Chris. Because of his selfishness, Christopher will never see his grandma again, and that’s just one more thing to add to the pile of shit Eddie’s robbed him of. 

And Christ on a cracker, how’s he going to break this news to Chris without breaking his heart? Eddie swallows past the bile rising in his throat and shoves that thought away. _One thing at a time, Diaz._

“How did you find us?” Eddie asks as a last ditch effort to fill the silence. 

“I spoke to your parents.”

“Right.” Eddie swallows the surge of anger at the mention of his own parents. “Of course.”

When Eddie went to his parents for help, they suggested he leave Chris with them. Because there’s no way Eddie can raise a child on his own when he could hardly make ends meet doing odd jobs and working around the clock. Their lack of faith in him was the last nail in the coffin and the push he needed to pack up and leave. He didn’t want to tell them anything about their new lives in LA, but _abuela_ insisted he at least let them know that he and Chris are safe. 

It’s another long, loaded moment of silence before John continues. “Anyway. After Martha was gone, I got on a plane and came here to see the only family I have left. And that’s you guys. When I saw Buck with Christopher and how happy y’all are, I got real angry,” he sighs, “and I thought to myself, why does the jackass who took my baby girl and my grandson away from me get to be this happy? It was selfish and stupid, but before I knew what I was doing, I called child services.” 

Eddie sighs and drinks the last of his coffee. He shouldn’t have another if he wants any sleep tonight, but he doesn’t think caffeine will be the thing keeping him up tonight, so he gets up and pours himself a second mug. When he turns to John and holds up the carafe, John shakes his head. Eddie takes his seat back at the table, and John continues. 

“I wasn’t thinking straight, and I figured I can take him home and raise him myself.” Eddie’s face must have betrayed his alarm because John holds up both hands and shakes his head. “No, I’m not going to do that. Though, after hearing nothing from CYS, I thought I could take matters into my own hands. Like I said, it was stupid, and I wasn’t thinking. I was just so damned angry.” 

Eddie grips his coffee mug to still the tremors in his fingers, and that gut-churning sick feeling is back. Maybe he should have insisted that Buck stay the night after all. “Is that…is that why you took Chris today?” 

John nods, and he avoids looking at Eddie. “My master plan was to pick up Chris and drive us to the airport and just leave. Can’t be that hard to change my flight and buy an extra ticket for him.”

“What changed your mind?” Eddie’s not sure he wants to hear the answer, but not knowing will kill him. 

“Buck did. And you and Carla.”

“Excuse me?”

John chuckles and finally meets Eddie’s eyes. “Yeah. It was the way Chris talked about you and Buck and Carla and the things y’all got up to that made me stop and _think._ Chris’ eyes lit up when he told me about cooking with Buck and all his adventures with Carla. He loves them. And after the stories Chris told me, I know Buck and Carla love him, too. This is the life Chris needs and deserves. He needs to be here with people who love him. And I know you love your little boy just like I love my Shannon.” His voice breaks on Shannon’s name, and this time, Eddie reaches across the table and takes John’s hand in his. 

John’s eyes widen, and for a fraction of a second Eddie thinks he’ll pull away, but he doesn’t, and the warm contact chips away at the years of ice built up between them. John squeezes the bridge of his nose, and Eddie pretends to not notice the moisture in the corners of his eyes. 

“I really am sorry, Eddie,” John says, voice quivering despite his efforts to keep himself together. “I should have called and let you know I had Christopher, and I shouldn’t have been such an asshole to Buck. Me feeling pissed off and sorry for myself is no excuse, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just want you to find it in your heart to let me back into Christopher’s life eventually.”

John’s hand turns and grips Eddie’s, and when Eddie studies John’s open face, he finds nothing but sincerity there. John’s hurting, and he lashed out in the only way he knows how. While that doesn’t excuse the shit he pulled, Eddie gets it, and he finds it difficult to stay mad at the sad, broken, lonely man sitting across from him. 

“And I’m sorry, too, for leaving.”

“You did what you thought was best for you and Chris—”

“No. I mean the first time when I left.” John’s grip tightens, and his lips press into a thin, white line. Eddie swallows before continuing. “When I found out Shannon was pregnant, I freaked out. I was so terrified of being a father, so terrified of what it meant to provide for a family. So I ran, like I always do when things get tough, and I left Shannon to pick up the pieces.” 

John sucks in a sharp breath, and the pain in his eyes sends a shaft of guilt through Eddie. He owes the Kellys an explanation and an apology, and it’s just occurred to him he’s never offered either to Shannon or her parents. It’s too late for Shannon and his mother-in-law, but if being with Buck has taught him anything, it’s that it is never too late to do the right thing. 

“I told Shannon that I re-enlisted to provide for our family and to pay for Chris’ medical bills, but the truth is I was a coward. And because of my cowardice, I missed being a parent with Shannon, and I missed some of the most precious years with my son.” Eddie scrubs a hand down his face and swallows. 

Apart from Buck, he’s never admitted his guilt to anyone, and it’s both terrifying and liberating to finally come clean. 

“I messed up, and I’m forever grateful that Shannon let me back into her life even after all the shit I put her through. She deserved _so_ much better than I could give, but please know that I _truly_ loved her.” 

John nods. He’s long since stopped trying to stem the flow of his tears as years of buried hurt resurfaces to haunt them both. Eddie clears his throat and brushes away his own tears. “I know no matter what I do, I can never make it up to you or to her, and I’ll always carry that with me. But Buck is my chance to give Chris a proper family again, and I want to forgive myself enough so I can love him the way he deserves to be loved.” 

The words catch him by surprise, but they’re honest, and Eddie’s done running even if John’s wide, blazing eyes spear right through him. He can’t heal if he can’t face his fears, and if he can’t heal, then he can’t give Buck the best version of himself. He already screwed things up with Shannon by letting his fears control him. He will not ruin his second chance at happiness by running again. 

John studies him for a long time. His expression is unreadable, but eventually his eyes grow kind like they never have when he looked at Eddie, and that gives Eddie hope. Hope that John can one day forgive him, too, and they can build a new family together. 

“On our drive home, Christopher told me you talk about his mom all the time.” John exhales slowly. “That you remind him every day how much his mother loved him and how proud she’d be of him. You keep her alive here”—he taps his chest over his heart—“and I thank you for that. I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for what you put Shannon through,” John says, and Eddie’s heart sinks. “But it’s clear you haven't replaced her, and she’ll never be forgotten. She’s part of your lives, and I can learn to accept you and Buck. For Christopher and for this family.” 

Relief floods through Eddie, and he lets out the breath he didn’t know he’s been holding. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start and a step in the right direction. Perhaps if they’d had this conversation sooner, things would have been different, but Eddie can’t change the past. What he _can_ do is to make sure he doesn’t fuck up the present and the future. Their future. 

“Thank you, John, really,” Eddie says, and he emphasizes each word with a squeeze of John’s hand before pulling back.

“No, Eddie, thank you.” John’s lips twitch into a faint smile. “It’s late. I should get going if I want to catch my flight home tomorrow,” he says as he pushes to his feet. 

“You’re leaving tomorrow?” Eddie follows. 

“That was always the plan.” 

“Oh.” Eddie tries not to think about the fact John came this close to taking Chris with him. “Uh, do you need a ride to the airport?”

“No,” John pats his pockets until he finds his keys. “I’ll drive myself and drop off the rental at the airport.” 

They head to the front of the house in silence. John puts on his shoes, and when the older man straightens, they stare at each other for another long, quiet moment. This time, the silence isn’t awkward, and Eddie’s finds himself a little sad that John’s leaving. 

“We’ll see you in thirty days?”

John groans. “Yeah, right, that.”

Eddie grins and worries at his bottom lip, then asks, “Would you like to stay with us when you come back for your hearing?”

John blinks, shocked, then his face breaks into a genuine smile that warms his eyes. “I’d love to. Tell Christopher grandpa loves him, and he’ll be back to visit real soon?”

“Will do.”

Eddie watches as John gets into his car and pulls onto the street, and a sudden weariness blankets over him. As happy as he is that he and John cleared the air, he can’t wait for life to go back to normal. After the whole thing with CYS and then today, Eddie just wants to crawl into bed and put this all craziness behind him. 

He shuts the door, then heads for his room where his bed beckons with the promise of sleep. 

===

Eddie wakes to the insistent ring of his doorbell going off again and again and again. Groaning, he rolls over and drags his pillow over his head. He’d just gotten in from dropping Chris off at school after a busy overnight shift, and the last thing he wants to do is to answer the door to some random sales guy or, God forbid, Jehovah witnesses. Maybe if he pretends he’s not home, whoever’s at the door will go away. 

The doorbell rings again, and Eddie curses as he oozes out of bed and trudges down the hall in nothing but his boxer briefs, hoping that his state of undress will be enough of a hint to his unwanted visitor to fuck off. 

He yanks the door open and grumbled, “How can I—”

Buck bullies his way into the house and kicks the door shut behind him. He crowds into Eddie with all the energy of a hyperactive puppy, grabbing him by the shoulders and spinning them around, and slams him into the solid door.

“Buck?” 

Before Eddie can say another word, Buck’s mouth slam against Eddie’s in a searing kiss. Eddie squeaks in surprise, but his body moulds against Buck’s even as his lips part without prompting, and before his brain catches up to what’s going on, he’s kissing Buck back with fervour. 

It’s been two weeks since John Kelly pulled his kidnapping stunt and turned their world upside down, and Buck and Eddie are still navigating the aftermath of almost losing Chris. Their time spent together has been comfortable but muted, and Eddie hasn’t realized just how much he missed the passion until now. Buck moans into his mouth, his tongue licking and probing, his teeth nipping, and his lips taste like strawberries on a summer evening. 

Eddie melts into the kiss and lets Buck drag him under. Buck’s body presses flush against him, and Eddie can’t help but explore the vast plains of Buck’s shoulders. Can’t help the burning need spreading heat along his skin when Buck’s thigh presses between his legs. Can’t help the shiver running through him when he realizes Buck now dwarves him with his wider frame and bulging muscles. 

He should feel threatened as a Dominant, but excitement thrills through him as he threads his fingers in Buck’s hair and yanks on the silky, curly strands. Buck is all bulky muscles and raw power, and he’ll happily hand all that power over to Eddie to do with as he pleases. The idea of that is so fucking intoxicating it takes his breath away. Eddie growls, and Buck whimpers as Eddie spins them around once more and shoves Buck against the front door. 

Eddie wants so much more than just a kiss. Wants to suck and nip and tease until Buck’s a whimpering, begging mess. But there’s a reason Buck came ringing his doorbell like he’s trying to break the damn thing, and Eddie’s curiosity wins over his need to devour Buck like the full course meal that he is. He pulls back and almost regrets it as soon as he lays eyes on Buck’s glistening lips, all kiss-swollen and cherry-red. 

“Fuck, Ev, please tell me this is a booty call,” Eddie croaks and leans his forehead against Buck’s, his fatigue all but forgotten as his body thrums with the need to dominate so badly it hurts. 

“It very well can be,” Buck says, his voice thick with desire. “But I got something to tell you first.”

“Oh?” Eddie leans back and looks into Buck’s lust-blown eyes. “What’s up?”

“I got the call, Eds, I got the call,” Buck says, his voice trembling with barely contained excitement. “I have my interview next Wednesday. It’s really fucking happening.” 

Eddie cups Buck’s face as joy and pride swells in his chest. He leans in and plants a fierce kiss on Buck’s lips before pulling back, and his face aches from how hard he’s smiling. “Oh my God, Buck. That’s fantastic! When did you get the call?”

“Fifteen minutes ago? Maybe? I didn’t want to tell you over the phone so I rushed over as soon as I could.” Buck’s shaking, and he covers Eddie’s hands with his and turns his head to plant a kiss on Eddie’s left palm. “I couldn’t have done this without you. Thank you so much for believing in me. For being there for me every step of the way.”

“This was all you, Buck,” Eddie murmurs into the tiny space between them. “Sure, I helped, but you did this, Evan. Your hard work and your tenacity and your brilliance got you here. You deserve this more than anyone else I know, and I am so fucking _proud_ of you.” 

Buck’s eyes soften as he stares at Eddie, and his excited, cocky smile turns gentle, almost bashful. Eddie’s heart is so full he’s afraid it’ll burst. He meant every word he said. Buck is the kindest and strongest person Eddie knows, and he wants to use his kindness and strength to help people, to save lives. If there’s anyone on this planet who would make a great firefighter, it’s Evan Buckley. 

Eddie holds Buck’s gaze for a heartbeat longer, then he leans forward and presses his lips to the corner of Buck’s mouth. Buck sighs, and the last thing Eddie sees before his eyes close is Buck’s pretty blues disappearing behind a flutter of long lashes. The kiss is gentle and languid, and this time, Eddie’s the one leading as he presses his tongue past Buck’s soft, plump lips. Buck’s hands roam down Eddie’s back, and Eddie basks in the pressure of Buck’s large hands cupping his ass and dragging him close. 

He will never tire of kissing Buck. Never tire of the unique bland of sweet and spicy that is Buck’s mouth. Every kiss is like reading his favourite book for the first time again, and Eddie will never tire of that thrill of rediscovery. 

Buck turns into putty in his hands, and his big body sags against the door, pulling Eddie with him. When they finally fall apart and come up for air, Eddie’s trembling with need. 

There’s something Eddie’s been wanting to do with Buck— _for_ Buck—for a while, and he can’t think of a better time than now to finally do it. “I think a little celebration is in order,” Eddie whispers as he latches onto the soft curve of Buck’s neck. 

Buck’s breath hitches and he throws his head back, exposing more of his skin like an offering. “W-what have you got in mind?”

Eddie pulls back the collar of Buck’s shirt and sinks his teeth into the exposed strip of flesh above the thin, braided strip of leather. Buck yelps even as his eyes darken. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he murmurs against the teeth marks, then steps back and drags Buck down the hall toward his bedroom. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...yes. That is Harry Styles. *runs away* 
> 
> and if you have no clue what I'm talking about, then please ignore this XD!!!!


	28. Chapter 28

When Buck got the call, he just wanted to tell Eddie the good news in person. He definitely didn’t show up on Eddie’s doorstep for sex, but after the stress of the past few weeks with John Kelly, with Christopher, and with the uncertainty of whether he’ll get the interview, this is exactly what he needs—what they both need—to regain equilibrium. 

Buck’s cock strains against the confines of his jeans as he follows Eddie to his room. He’s not sure what Eddie’s got in mind, but that glint in his eyes when he said Buck’ll find out soon is promise enough to send Buck’s imagination into overdrive. He’s never been good with being patient, and right now, it’s extra hard to be obedient and let his dom lead when all he wants to do is push Eddie up against the wall and has his way with him until he forgets his own damn name. 

Knowing Eddie, he’d _probably_ find the notion amusing instead of insulting, but Eddie’s not a Neutral, and Buck’s not sure he can survive topping a dom. 

He tries not to hope for any one thing, knowing Eddie will give him exactly what he needs, but his whole body thrums with an odd desire so strong it leaves him raw and a little terrified. He’s a Submissive, yet every part of him is coiled tight and ready to pounce, and he’s not sure what to do with all this energy.

The disheveled sheets on Eddie’s bed beckon, and Buck swallows as he kicks the door shut behind him. Eddie turns around and slams him into the solid wood, and his mouth latches onto the soft spot behind his ear once more. Fuck, but he loves that Eddie knows just where to touch him to turn his knees to water. Eddie mouths down his neck, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of Buck’s shirt to roam up his stomach, and Buck’s breath hitches when Eddie’s fingers brush across his hard nipples. 

His touch leaves trails of gooseflesh in their wake, and Buck’s body dances to the silent melody Eddie’s playing out along his skin. Buck waits for the usual calm of submission to take over, for the soothing waves of subspace to pull him under, but something’s holding him back, and not even Eddie’s soft lips and explorative hands can drown out the buzzing in his ears. 

Eddie pulls back and stares into Buck’s eyes, and the morning sun bounces off the flecks of gold in those honey browns. His expression is unreadable as he searches Buck’s face for a long, pensive moment, then Eddie takes a step back and smiles. 

“Why don’t you go to take a shower, Buck?” 

Buck blinks. “What?” Of all the things he expected to happen, being told to take a shower was definitely not one of them. 

“Go shower,” Eddie repeats and darts in to kiss the corner of Buck’s mouth. Buck wants to protest, wants to apologize for whatever he did, but the soft smile that creases the corners of Eddie’s eyes stops him. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”

Maybe it’s the gentle tone of his voice, or maybe it’s the simple fact that it’s _Eddie_ asking him to do something, whatever it is, Buck decides to not fight it and just go with the flow. 

"Oh and Buck?" Eddie says. "Come back naked." And this time, Buck doesn’t miss the thick arousal in his husky voice.

Buck swallows and heads into Eddie’s ensuite bathroom, closing the door behind him. He wants Eddie to join him, but his curiosity trumps his horniness, and Buck doesn’t want to ruin whatever Eddie’s planning. After all, he’s the one who showed up unannounced. The least he can do is give Eddie some time to prepare. 

The hot water feels good tattooing across his shoulders and back, but Buck doesn’t waste time luxuriating as he washes his hair with Eddie’s shampoo and lathers up with Eddie’s soap. His cock is still hard, and Buck contemplates giving it a quick rub to take the edge off. But Eddie didn’t say he could, so Buck strokes himself once with his soapy palm, bites back the groan and swallows his need for more, then rinses and shuts off the water. 

He uses Eddie’s towel to dry off and inhales deeply as Eddie’s scent wraps around him. The shampoo and body wash are generic supermarket brands, but combined, they make a heady mix that reminds Buck of Eddie. Now that scent is in his hair and on his skin, branding him just like Eddie’s kisses and touch. 

And damn if Buck doesn’t love being claimed like this, too.

He rakes through his hair with his fingers and studies his reflection in the mirror, then hangs the towel and walks out of the bathroom naked as the day he was born. 

Because his Dominant asked him to. 

The cool air in Eddie’s room chills his skin, but he’s burning from the inside out as Eddie’s heated gaze rakes down his body. Lust, desire, love, appreciation. They swirl in that single look Eddie gives him, but that look is not what takes Buck’s breath away. 

On the bed, beside Eddie, is a velvet box Buck’s familiar with, and his throat closes as his eyes land on it. Is it what he thinks it is? Is he ready for this? Are they ready for this? 

Eddie beckons with a curl of his finger, and Buck walks toward him as if being pulled by an invisible string. He can’t decide whether to look at Eddie or the box by his hip, and with every step he takes, his heart beats a little faster and his breathing becomes a little shallower. 

“You want to sit or kneel?” Eddie asks when Buck stops in front of him. 

Buck drops to his knees, and Eddie’s smile softens as he cups Buck’s face and strokes his thumb across Buck’s cheek. It’s such a simple touch, but it quiets Buck’s mind like a switch. Buck looks from the box to Eddie, then back to the box again, and he swallows when Eddie picks it up and opens the lid. 

The thick leather collar is exactly as Buck remembers, with its pristine stitching and the chrome loop gleaming in the front. He can almost imagine the weight of it, imagine the pressure as Eddie cinches it around his neck, and the idea of being so completely possessed makes him lightheaded. He doesn’t realize he’s stroking the thin leather strip around his neck until Eddie eases his fingers from the modest day collar, and he can’t help the whimper of distress he makes when Eddie unlatches it from his throat. 

He’s bare without it. Vulnerable and more naked than he thought possible, despite the fact he’s not wearing any clothes. His stomach twists and he wants to cry out against the wrongness of being without Eddie’s collar. Without _his_ collar _._ Eddie traces a finger from his throat to his chin and tilts his head until their eyes meet. There’s a storm raging behind Eddie’s dark eyes, and Buck can’t help but be dragged into it. 

“Do you trust me?” Eddie asks, and the intensity in his eyes wavers with a thread of uncertainty.

Buck frowns, and his gut twists for a different reason. He trusts Eddie with his flaws and his shortcomings. He trusts Eddie with his deepest desires. That he'll never hurt Buck on purpose, and he trusts that Eddie will help him heal, has already helped him heal, with every moment they spend together. 

“Completely.” He puts as much emphasis into this one word as he thinks possible and means it with the entirety of his being.

Buck trusts Eddie with his life and his heart. 

Eddie picks up the thick band of leather and hefts it with trembling fingers, then he brings it in front of Buck, holding the straps open. Buck stares at the invitation, the silent ask for permission, and when he looks back into Eddie’s eyes, he finds no impatience or expectation there. He can say no and Eddie wouldn’t judge him, wouldn’t treat him any differently, and that realization chases away the last traces of of Buck’s lingering doubt. 

He leans forward, and Eddie lets out a slow sigh as he brings the collar the rest of the way around his neck. It takes Eddie a few tries before he closes the clasp, and when he moves back, Buck sighs under the weight of the collar. It’s not as heavy as he had feared or imagined, and Buck wonders if it’s because he’s not carrying its weight alone. 

The thin, braided leather makes him feel safe and cherished. It's a tether between him and Eddie that gives him a sense of security. This collar, sitting snug around his neck, brushing his skin with his every breath, sends exhilaration through him like fireworks. Like his entire body is about to combust, and the collar is the only thing holding him together. 

“ _Tan lindo,_ Evan,” Eddie breathes, and his voice is so soft Buck barely hears him. 

Eddie mutters that phrase enough that Buck knows what it means, but this time it feels different. Instead of just understanding the words, he feels them in his bones. Buck straightens his back and lifts his chin, preening not only because is it expected of him, but because he wants to. He wants to be beautiful for Eddie. He wants to be proud of his submission, of his biology, of who he is, and of who he is to Eddie. 

He’s spent his entire life chasing perfection, but in this moment, he _is_ perfection. And it’s not because of anything he’s done or said, but simply because he’s Eddie’s, and Eddie is his.

A strong finger threads through the loop in front of his collar, and Eddie’s reverent smile turns into a sly grin when he tugs Buck forward. “Oh, I can get used to this,” he murmurs before claiming Buck’s mouth.

There’s no mistaking the possessive lick of Eddie’s tongue as it bullies its way past Buck’s lips, and it’s spicy and heady and everything amazing that Buck can’t even put into words. He holds still as Eddie ravishes his mouth, opening himself up like he’s never done before because this is _Eddie_ branding him inside and out. When he’s kissing Eddie like this, when Eddie’s kissing _him_ like this, his world rights itself and he’s whole. He belongs, and it’s not like how he imagined belonging to someone would feel. 

He’s grounded and floating. Tethered and flying. Possessed and free. 

And suddenly, Buck can’t stop himself from kissing back if his life depended on it. Can’t stop the combative push of his tongue tangling with Eddie’s even if Eddie commanded him to. Sure, he’s the Submissive and Eddie’s his Dominant, but this collar signifies a union of two equals, and Buck wants to lay his claim on Eddie as much as he wants to be claimed. Eddie whimpers, and the sound shoots straight to Buck’s aching erection as he deepens the kiss. 

Eddie pulls back with a groan, and when Buck opens his eyes, he finds Eddie’s lust-blown pupils trained on him. Eddie’s glistening lips are kiss swollen and parted as he pants, and his cheeks are flushed a deep crimson that contrast beautifully with his tanned skin. Fuck, but Eddie’s so gorgeous it takes Buck’s breath away. 

“Fuck, Ev, you gotta stop kissing me like that or this is gonna end embarrassingly quickly,” Eddie huffs as he grips the base of his cock through his boxer briefs, and they both chuckle. 

Buck touches the thick leather band around his neck. “Well then, how would you like me, sir?” 

Eddie’s eyes darken, and a thrill runs down Buck’s spine. “On the bed on your back, Buck, and spread your legs.”

Buck scrambles onto the bed and sinks into the mess of sheets, his legs spreading as if they’ve got a mind of their own. Eddie growls, then crawls between Buck’s thighs on all fours until he’s on top of Buck. Golden sunlight shafts through the bedroom window, casting a halo around Eddie as he looms over Buck, and Buck forgets how to breathe a second time. 

Eddie kisses the tip of Buck’s nose, then the corner of his mouth and down his jaw. He dots feather-light kisses along the curve of Buck’s neck even as his fingers map out every inch of Buck’s torso as if he’s touching him for the first time. His lips follow where his fingers touch, always tender, always teasing, and before long, Buck’s a writhing, whimpering mess, his skin on fire as Eddie worships him. 

Soft, moist lips skate along Buck’s stomach, and a teasing tongue dips into his navel. Buck’s breath hitches, and on the shaky exhale, Eddie looks up with a wicked grin. 

“Good?” he asks, then kisses around Buck’s bellybutton. 

Buck tries not to squirm, but he’s so goddamn sensitive. “Fuck, Eddie, please just—” and Buck’s brain shorts when Eddie’s hot breath ghost over the tip of his cock before soft lips wrap around the head. “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck—”

Eddie dives forward, and the head of Buck’s cock hits the back of his throat. It’s moist and hot and oh so soft and Buck’s barely gotten his lungs working again when Eddie swallows. His cock slides past Eddie’s gag reflex to sit snug down his throat, and black spots dance around the edges of Buck’s vision. 

He will never get used to having Eddie, his dom, suck his cock. There’s just something so deliciously devious about this. Maybe it’s the taboo nature of the act, or maybe it’s his biology struggling against the shift in perceived power dynamics. Whatever it is, Buck basks in the soft, velvet heat of Eddie’s throat even as he floats into this new headspace between subspace and acute awareness. 

Eddie pulls back, grins up at him with those gorgeous, plump lips, then takes Buck’s down once more. His lips are cherry red as they stretch obscenely wide around Buck’s cock, and it takes everything Buck has not to thrust up and fuck Eddie’s throat. He’s not sure he can survive that. He’ll literally have an aneurysm and die on the spot if he ever let himself fuck Eddie’s throat like that. No matter how progressive their relationship and dynamic is, there are some things Buck simply can’t do. 

Gentle fingers cradle Buck’s balls as Eddie bobs up and down on his cock, his tongue laving, his lips soft and slick as they stroke along the shaft. Buck throws his head back and shuts his eyes, his fingers buried in Eddie’s hair as he silently pleads for Eddie to go faster, suck him harder, take him deeper. A finger trails past his sac, presses against his perineum for a mind-numbing moment, then travels further south until it brushes against Buck’s hole. 

“Oh God,” Buck keens, his legs spreading wider as he opens himself to Eddie, and he feels more than hears the chuckle rumbling in Eddie’s throat. 

Large hands stroke up and down his inner thighs, adding to the maddening pleasure building low in his gut, then Eddie slides off his cock with a loud pop. Buck frowns, and his fingers tighten around Eddie’s hair before he can stop himself. He wants that hot mouth back on him, wants to bury himself back inside Eddie’s silky throat. He’s so damn close. Just needs a little more. Just another—

Eddie flings Bucks legs over his shoulders, and his fingers dig into the thin skin of Buck’s inner thighs as Eddie shove his legs wide open. A wet tongue swipes across his hole, and before Buck can fully process what the hell just happened, the tip of Eddie’s tongue flicks against his opening before pressing firmly against the ring of muscle. 

“Fuck, Eds!” Buck gasps, and his fingers spasm around handfuls of hair. 

Eddie inhales sharply, but his tongue continues to probe and lick at Buck’s hole until Buck’s body relaxes. Buck tries to focus on the wet heat lapping at him and stabbing into him, but he’s reeling from the sensation, and it’s like sticks of dynamite are going off inside him. No one’s ever eaten him out like this before, never cared about his pleasure enough to explore his body this intimately, and Buck’s torn between wanting to shove Eddie away and pull him closer. 

His tongue feels alien, but it’s also indescribably amazing as Eddie licks and sucks and nips that sensitive part of him. If Buck is a meal, then Eddie’s a starving man as he devours Buck inside and out. It’s all so hot, so wet, so taboo, and so incredibly and undoubtedly right. A finger slips inside him, the pad curling against that sweet spot inside him only Eddie can find with such ease and precision, then Eddie’s breath is back tickling the underside of Buck’s dick. 

“Buck, you with me?” Eddie asks, and he punctuates every word with a stroke of Buck’s prostate. 

“F-fu—yeah, I’m—”

Eddie reaches up and hooks two fingers under Buck’s collar, hauling him up until their heated gazes meet over Buck’s heaving chest, and commands, “Come, _cariño.”_

Buck hears the words, but he doesn’t comprehend them as his body bows and his cock twitches. That low-building pressure explodes from the base of his spine and crashes through him and come blurts from the tip of his untouched cock. Eddie’s finger milks him in rhythmic strokes, and Buck’s whole body hangs in limbo, his mouth open in a silent scream, as his orgasm punches through him for what feels like a lifetime. Through the whoosh of blood in his ears is Eddie’s steady voice guiding him. A beacon in the fog of Buck’s orgasmic haze, and Buck clings to that beacon until his body sags into the sweat-soaked sheets, and he’s floating like he’s never before. 

Eddie crawls over his body and lies on top of him, and Buck luxuriates under the solid, warm weight of his Dominant. Eddie kisses his neck, his jaw, his cheeks, his eyelids, and each kiss is like a declaration of love. An unspoken _I love you_ that sinks through Buck’s skin and into his soul. He lays there for an eternity, and it’s only when Eddie moves off him that Buck cracks open an eye to find Eddie watching him intently. 

“Hey,” he croaks, and his lips pull into a lazy smile. Eddie strokes his cheek and smiles, but even in Buck’s post-orgasmic bliss, it’s impossible to miss the glint of nervousness in Eddie’s eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Buck struggles onto his elbows and holds Eddie’s gaze. 

Eddie drops his hand and stares down at the inch of space between their bodies. When he finally looks up at Buck again, fear clouds his beautiful brown eyes. What could Eddie be so afraid of after what they just did? After he finally donned his collar around Buck’s neck? Is he having second thoughts? Cold feet? Regrets? Buck shoves those stupid thoughts from his mind before they take root. _Get your head out of your ass, Buckley._

“Buck, I—” Eddie clears his throat and takes a deep breath. 

“What is it?” Buck sits up straight, pulling Eddie with him, and they stare at each other bathed in the golden glow of the late morning sun. 

“Buck, I want you to fuck me.”

And Buck’s world grinds to a screeching halt. 


	29. Chapter 29

Submissives don’t fuck their Dominants. 

That’s just the way things have always been, regardless of sex or gender. It goes beyond mere physicality and sexual orientation. It’s been the way of things between Submissives and Dominants since the beginning of time. 

And it’s time such draconian expectations were challenged. 

Buck stares at him with wide eyes filled with so much shock and disbelief they’re electrifyingly blue. He’s statue-still, back ram-rod straight, and the look on his face would be funny if Eddie wasn’t so nervous he wants to throw up. 

No self-respecting dom would ever ask their sub— _collared_ sub—to fuck them, and while Eddie doesn’t feel like getting fucked will diminish his person or worth, it might change the way Buck sees him as a capable dom. Buck with the horrendous ways of tradition beaten into him from a young age. Buck, who’s still coming to terms with the idea he can be whatever he wants to be. And it’s exactly because of this that Eddie’s asking him to do the unthinkable. 

It’ll be uncomfortable for them both, but if Eddie wants to show Buck once and for all that he’s the master of his own fate, then he has to do this. There’s no better time than now, when Buck needs his confidence the most walking into that interview. Eddie was in that room once, facing the sterile professionalism of his interviewer, and even as a Dominant, he’d never felt more vulnerable and scared and judged and found wanting, and he runs into burning buildings for a living. If there’s anyway he can help Buck prepare now, it’s giving him the knowledge that he can do anything if he puts his mind to it, even if it’s a billion miles outside of his comfort zone. 

“You want me to…what?” he asks, his eyes narrow and his shoulders tense as if he’s curling in on himself. 

Eddie wants to reach out and smooth the doubt from his creased brows, but he holds back and takes a deep breath. “You heard me. I want you to fuck me.”

“But—that’s—”

“Not done?” Eddie says with a smile he hopes is more cocky than nervous, and Buck nods. “And so what if it’s not done?”

“But you’re a dom, and I’m your _collared_ sub.” Buck touches the thick leather band around his neck, and Eddie loses himself for a moment taking in the sight of Buck wearing his mark. 

“You’re my _partner_ , Buck. Not my property and definitely not my slave.” Eddie crosses his legs and squares himself in front of Buck. He reaches out and grips both of Buck’s hands in his, taking strength from the contact as much as he’s trying to pour reassurance into Buck. “Your collar is my commitment and love to you. It’s our bond. It’s special between a dom and a sub, and that’s the only reason I collared you. It’s not a marker of status or ownership, and I never want you to feel like it is.”

“Okay, you just told me that, and I believe you. But I really don’t know if I can—”

Eddie shoots forward and presses his lips to Buck’s, stealing whatever words of doubt he’s about to utter. Buck makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat, but he relaxes when Eddie lets go of his hands and cups his cheeks and kisses him thoroughly. When he pulls back, Buck’s looking less like a deer caught in headlights. 

“You have the power to do anything you want, and I want you to make me yours as much as I’ve made you mine,” Eddie says into the infinitesimal space between their lips. “We’re partners, equals, and my collaring you doesn’t negate that. We’re celebrating you taking charge of your life, and I want you to take charge in every aspect of it, including me.”

Buck stares into Eddie’s eyes as if he’s looking for answers to the mysteries of the universe, and he’s silent for so long Eddie’s conviction wavers. What he’s offering is uncharted waters for them both. He doesn’t know what this will do to them both mentally, and he’s not sure if he can take care of himself and Buck if something goes wrong. But it’s a risk he’s willing to take _because_ it’s Buck. 

If he refuses, Eddie will respect that. He’ll be disappointed but not in Buck. Never in Buck. He’s struggling with centuries of tradition that’s ingrained into their very way of life, and it’s not something Eddie can change overnight with a few choice words and sheer willpower. 

Silence, loaded and muted, settles between them, and with every passing second, Eddie’s heart sinks a little more. It’s too soon. He pushed Buck too hard and now he’s put the love of his life between a rock and a hard place. He’s the Dominant, and he needs to fix this before whatever this is between them breaks any further. He opens his mouth, but the shift in Buck’s expression gives him pause. 

Buck’s eyes soften, and the cold sheen of shock makes way for a radiant glow. He smiles, a slight quirk of his plump lips, but it lights up his eyes like fireworks, and Eddie’s heart swells. 

“Okay, Eds,” Buck whispers, and his smile grows bigger until it’s so damn bright it’s blinding. “Let’s do this.” 

Laughter bubbles from Eddie’s chest, and he yanks Buck in for a searing kiss. Buck moans and goes pliant, but only for a second before his body tenses and he takes Eddie by the wrists and shoves him back. They flop back into the messy cocoon of sheets, and Buck’s big body presses Eddie into the mattress with a purpose. Eddie tries to lift his arms, testing Buck’s hold, and Buck growls as his grip tightens. 

Buck’s power sends a thrill of fear through Eddie, but it’s a good fear, the kind that pushes you to become a better version of yourself. It’s alien to be physically dominated like this, but it’s so mentally freeing Eddie wants to sob with the sheer weight of it. Buck attacks his mouth, his tongue bullying its way into Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie has never been happier to give up control. 

Every lick of Buck’s tongue sends Eddie higher, and every nip of his teeth is a tether back down to Earth. It’s all consuming and addictive, and Eddie makes a mental note to ask Buck to kiss him like this more often. 

Buck pulls back and stares down at Eddie, his lips parted as he pants, and Eddie’s chest rises and falls in time with Buck’s inhales and exhales. Shafts of sunlight spills through the window and lands across Buck’s face, highlighting the specks of green in the blue of his eyes, and Eddie falls head-over-heels for this man all over again. 

He’s so beautiful in his fierceness. So fragile in his masculinity. And he’s so utterly and completely Eddie’s. The last tendril of fear of bottoming evaporates under the warmth of late-morning sunbeams, and Eddie sighs and closes his eyes, giving himself, body and soul, for Buck to use as he pleases. 

“Fuck, Eds, we’re really gonna do this?” Buck whispers, and there’s awe and a quiver of fear in his voice. 

Eddie opens his eyes and smirks. “Think you’re sub enough to dick down your Dominant?”

Buck blinks in shock, then chortles and leans down and nips Eddie’s jaw sharply. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me.” Buck’s knee pushes between Eddie’s legs, spreading them as he nudges Eddie’s crotch through his boxer briefs, and Eddie’s breath hitches. 

“Not if you fuck the living daylights out of me first,” Eddie retorts and grinds down on Buck’s knee, and they both groan. 

Instead of a response, Buck just claims his mouth again with a ferocity that takes Eddie’s breath away. He’s always known about the wells of strength and passion locked inside Buck, and to have all that unleashed in the form of single-minded focus on Eddie is a lot to take in. Buck’s hands are everywhere, and he slots himself between Eddie’s legs like he belongs there. And he does, he belongs with Eddie as much as Eddie belongs with him, and it’s about damn time Buck laid claim to Eddie in a way no sub ever has. 

Buck kisses along Eddie’s jaw, down the curve of his neck, and latches onto the hollow at the base of his throat, and Eddie’s lightheaded with sensation. He arches off the bed, body seeking for as much contact as he can get, and Buck growls into his skin as large hands pin him back down. There’s a flicker of wrongness, but it’s doused by all the ways Buck’s making him feel so damn _right_.

He’s touching Eddie in all the right ways, in ways Eddie didn’t even know he liked being touched, and in places no one else has ever dared to touch him before. Buck rears up and pushes Eddie’s underwear down his hips, and when strong, calloused fingers wrap around Eddie’s cock, a kaleidoscope of colours explode in the edges of Eddie’s vision. 

“Shit, Buck—”

Buck covers his mouth with his and swallows Eddie’s shocked cry when he flicks his nail across Eddie’s slit. Eddie wants to curl in on the intensity of the pain-laced pleasure shooting down his cock, but Buck’s bulk keeps him pinned and spread out and vulnerable in the most delicious way. He works Eddie’s mouth and cock, his tongue stroking in time with his fingers, and Eddie’s so close to the edge so quickly he’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t so far gone. 

Pressure. There’s so much pressure it’s as if his blood is trying to push through his skin, and the only way out is down. Eddie tries to hang on for even a second longer, but Buck has other ideas as he reaches past Eddie’s balls and applies pressure to his taint. And the world explodes in blinding white. 

Eddie shouts, and Buck catches his screams with kisses as he milks every last drop from Eddie with patient fingers. The orgasm lasts for what feels like a lifetime until Eddie’s sure he’s hollow from how hard he just came. He sags into the bed, spent and satiated and about to drift off when a slick finger drags across his hole, and his eyes fly open as he remembers. 

Right. He’s about to get fucked. 

Gentle hands ease him onto his back and spread his thighs, and Eddie’s too boneless to do anything but comply. He looks down the flat plane of his body and finds Buck kneeling between his legs, squeezing lube on his come-covered hand, a look of absolute concentration on his handsome face. Eddie flops back and takes a moment to school his emotions. 

It’s actually going to happen. He’s actually going to get fucked. By Buck. By his sweet, obedient, defiant, and fierce Buck. He swallows and takes a few deep breaths, spreading his legs further when he finally gains control of them, and Buck runs a soothing hand down his flank. 

“You ready?”

Eddie nods, then props onto his elbows and gives Buck a reassuring smile. “Yeah, let’s do this.” 

Buck hesitates, then brings a slick finger to Eddie’s hole and massages the ring of muscle. Eddie sucks in a sharp breath. The lube is cool, and the sensation is strange. But it’s not so bad, and when Buck starts to massage in circles around his hole, Eddie relaxes into the touch. It’s nice. Really nice. 

Until Buck eases a finger inside him. Eddie tenses, and every molecule in his body screams for him to expel the alien discomfort of the penetration. He must have made a noise, because Buck’s head snaps up in panic and they lock eyes. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he blurts.

Eddie takes a deep, shuddering breath, then another, and for the first time since he suggested this crazy idea, he’s not sure if he can handle it. “Okay, confession time,” he gasps. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Wait, like never?” Buck’s eyebrows fly to his hairline, and his birthmark jumps. “Not even when you’re rubbing one out?”

Eddie’s cheeks heat, and he’s acutely aware of Buck’s finger frozen inside him. “No. Never. I never thought to. And I didn’t think it would be so…intense. I feel like I owe an apology to every butt hole I’ve ever fucked without proper prep.” 

Buck bursts out laughing, and the sound eases the tension between them. He withdraws his finger, and Eddie makes a strangled noise in protest. Just because he’s an anal virgin, doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to do it.

“Eds, we don’t have to do this.”

“But I want to,” Eddie says with conviction. “I want this for us and I trust you. I just…be slow with me? Ease me into it?” 

Buck’s expression softens. “Okay.” 

Eddie lays back down and screws his eyes shut, but Buck doesn’t go anywhere near his hole. Instead, he urges Eddie to roll onto his stomach, then straddles Eddie’s thighs and starts kneading the knots from Eddie’s back muscles. Eddie wants to protest, but Buck’s hands feel so amazing as they squeeze and massage his shoulders, and before long, Eddie forgets his own damn name as Buck works down his traps, shoulders, and lower back. 

A sheet drapes across Eddie’s back as Buck shuffles down his legs. His hands are steady as they work magic into Eddie’s tense lower back and thighs and calves, and when they work their way back to Eddie’s ass, there’s not an ounce of tension left in his body. Strong hands grip his hips and pulls, and Eddie shifts his knees forward to support his weight. This time when Buck’s slick finger slips inside his hole, Eddie hardly twitches. 

Without the pain, it’s weirdly pleasant to have Buck’s finger sliding in and out of him, and before long, Eddie’s rocking his hips back. He doesn’t know what he’s seeking, just that he wants _more._ A second finger slips inside him, and the stretch sends a jolt of pleasure straight to his cock. Eddie moans and brings his arms up to brace against the mattress. He’s still relaxed, but there’s now a driving need coursing through him that urges him to move. 

Behind him, Buck is quiet as he twists his slick fingers in and out of Eddie, his other hand groping and massaging the globe of Eddie’s ass. The combined sensation is deliciously arousing, but now that he’s discovered this empty hollow inside he didn’t he had, he needs it to be filled with so much more than just two fingers. 

“Buck, more, please,” Eddie mumbles into the sheets, and he’s rewarded with a third finger. 

He gasps, and his legs tremble from the burning stretch. Buck squirts more lube down his crack, and the cool liquid takes the edge off the sting until his body grows accustomed to the new girth. Buck fucks him slowly with his fingers, twisting them occasionally and spreading them inside to give Eddie a good stretch, and before long, Eddie’s pushing back once more and making noises he’ll probably never admit to making. 

The mattress shifts behind him, Buck pulls out of him with a slick pop, and the sound of a foil wrapper ripping open sends a shiver down Eddie’s spine. 

It was good, really good, amazing even to have Buck’s fingers fuck him open, but Eddie’s seen Buck’s cock. The man’s dick is well proportioned to his height, and a small part of Eddie isn’t sure how he will take Buck’s cock despite this thorough stretching. 

A muscular arm wraps around Eddie’s waist and flips him onto his back once more. Buck hovers on top of him, his handsome features bathed in buttery sunlight, and Eddie forgets, for a moment, what’s about to come as he gazes up at the love of his life. 

“Ready?” Buck asks. Eddie swallows and nods. “Tell me if anything hurts, okay?” 

Eddie smiles and nods again and reaches up to stroke a thumb across Buck’s cheek. “Make love to me, Evan.”

When Buck finally sinks into him, colour bleeds into a world Eddie never knew was black and white. The stretch is uncomfortable despite the thorough prep, but the pain passes quickly for a fullness that completes him so thoroughly it makes him want to weep. Buck stays still, his cock twitching and pulsing until they’re both panting with need, and Eddie wraps his legs around Buck’s waist in a silent plea to _move._

Buck loves him from the inside out, and with every stroke, every thrust, Eddie loses a piece of himself in Buck. His body sings with pleasure unlike any he’s ever experienced, and when Buck shifts his angle on his next thrust, bright lights explode behind Eddie’s shut eyelids. He screams, in shock, in ecstasy, and in love. 

When Eddie tumbles down the rabbit hole, it’s to the sound of his name whispered like a prayer in his ear with Buck’s body rigid on top of him. They collapse together, and Eddie holds onto Buck for as long as his lungs allow before his need for oxygen wins out. Buck rolls off him, slipping out of him in the process, and they lay together panting for another moment before Buck gets up and heads into the bathroom. 

He comes back with a warm towel and cleans Eddie’s stomach, then tosses the soiled rag onto the floor before crawling into bed and into Eddie’s embrace. He buries his face in Eddie’s chest, his entire body trembling, and Eddie wraps the sheets around them in a tight cocoon. He whispers sweet nothings into Buck’s ear and kisses his face and hair until Buck’s shaking stops, and they sink into a contented space that’s completely theirs. 

“Thank you, Buck,” Eddie murmurs into Buck’s ear and punctuates every word with a kiss. 

Buck shudders, then wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist before looking up. His eyes are soft and so incredibly blue it takes Eddie’s breath away. “Thank _you_ for giving me that.” 

“We’re partners, and that’s what partners do, right?” Eddie kisses the tip of Buck’s nose. “Besides, I gotta say that was pretty damn good. We’ll have to do that again.” 

Buck snorts, and they fall into a companionable silence with Buck’s face buried back into his chest. They lay like this for a long while, luxuriating in each other’s presence and the love that binds them, and Eddie’s never been happier in his whole life than this moment. 

He’s never given himself to another like this, and he wasn’t sure how this would change them. All those fears are gone now as he holds Buck in his arms, and his world is finally complete. He’s finally complete. 

Buck stirs and pulls back, and Eddie can’t read the odd expression on his face. 

“You know, Eddie, I just realized something.”

“What, _cariño?_

“I just popped your ass cherry.”

And Eddie groans as he kicks Buck off the bed. 

===

They spend the rest of the morning tangled in bed together until it’s time for Eddie to leave for work. He gets out of bed reluctantly, showers, gets dressed, and walks into the kitchen to Buck handing him a brown paper bag. 

“Figured you could use a sandwich before work,” Buck says. 

Eddie looks in the bag and finds a sandwich, an apple, and a juice box. “Is this lunch for a twelve-year-old?” he teases even as warmth spreads from his chest. 

Buck rolls his eyes and punches him on the shoulder playfully. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Eddie replies. “Carla will be here with Chris in a couple hours if you wanna stick around.”

“Can’t today. Got dinner plans with Chim and Maddie.”

“Is that why he got the night off?”

“They’re cooking tonight,” Buck wrinkles his nose. “Wish me luck.”

Having experienced Chim’s cooking first hand, Eddie’s pang of sympathy is real. “I got Pepto if you need it.”

Buck kisses Eddie’s cheek. “You’re my hero. Now get or you’re gonna be late.”

Eddie grabs his paper bag lunch and heads for the front door. Buck kisses him once more at the door before waving him goodbye, and Eddie sighs with contentment. What would it be like to have Buck kiss him out the door every day? Sure, it’ll probably be impossible once Buck becomes a firefighter, but until then, Eddie could get used to a packed lunch and a kiss at the door every day. 

Maybe he should ask Buck to move in with him, too. They can move him and Carla in on the same day and only pay for one rental truck, and Buck can save money on rent. But is it too soon to ask him something so monumental right after Eddie collared him? He doesn’t want to come off cloying so soon after such a big commitment, but damn if the idea of having Buck here permanently doesn’t make Eddie’s insides all warm and fuzzy. 

With a curse, he pulls off onto the street and head for work, eating his sandwich and drinking his juice box as he drives. 

The station is bustling with people as Eddie arrives, and he changes into his uniform and clocks in. The shift change happens without incident, and as the slow afternoon bleeds into an even slower evening, Eddie’s glad it’s shaping up to be an uneventful night. Between lazy sessions of love-making, Eddie only caught a few minutes of shuteye here and there. If things keep being slow like this, maybe he can crawl into his bunk and catch up on some sleep. 

His phone chimes in his pocket as he makes his way upstairs to the dorms, and he pulls it out to find a text from Buck. He smiles despite himself and taps the message. 

_Getting ready for dinner. What do you think, blue or black?_

Attached to the message are two photos, one of buck wearing a loose sky blue polo, and the other of him in a tight v-neck black t-shirt. He looks good enough to eat in both, and Eddie’s cock stirs despite the day he’s had. Christ on a cracker, but he needs to think about Chris or _abuela_ or something else equally homely right now if he wants to get any rest tonight. 

_Black. It makes your eyes pop and shows off those muscles._

Eddie types out a response and hits send before flopping onto the nearest bunk and kicking off his shoes. 

_Aye aye, captain. How’s work?_ Buck’s reply comes immediately, and Eddie clutches the phone to his chest for a second before responding. 

_Work’s super slow tonight, maybe I’ll get some rest after all._

_Hey, it’s your fault for not napping._

_Whose fault was it that I didn’t get a chance to?_

_Are you complaining?_ Buck sends a smirk emoji with his text, and Eddie rolls his eyes. 

_Wouldn’t dream of it._

The phone goes silent in his hands for so long Eddie wonders if he’d accidentally dozed off. He checks the time. It’s been ten minutes and no response. Eddie fluffs his pillow, then pulls the blanket over him. Maybe Buck’s driving and couldn’t reply. 

_Have a good time at Chim and Maddie’s. Say hi for me._

Eddie hits send before slipping the phone under his pillow and falling into a dreamless sleep. 


	30. Chapter 30

Buck tosses his phone onto the bed before pulling on the black v-neck. He likes it when Eddie tells him what to wear. Some may find it old-fashioned, but Buck likes a little harmless tradition. Besides, he enjoys hearing Eddie say nice things about his eyes and his muscles. 

His phone chimes with another text, and Buck grins as he dives on the bed and grabs his phone. Work must be slow if Eddie’s responding to his texts so quickly. A quiet day at the firehouse means a quiet and uneventful night in the city, and no one can complain about that, least of all Buck. He thumbs open the text, grins wider at Eddie’s cheeky message and starts to type a response when his phone rings and Maddie’s smiling face pops onto the screen. 

“Hey, Mads, what’s up?”

“Cooking, duh,” she replies, and Buck can almost hear her eye-roll. “When are you coming over?”

Buck checks his reflection in the full-length mirror one last time and smoothes back his hair before ducking out of his bedroom. “Just about to leave now. Why?”

“Can you pick up a loaf of garlic bread on your way over?” 

Buck wrinkles his nose. “Store bought? Really? If I’d known you were making garlic bread, I’d have baked you some baguettes and roasted some garlic.”

“Not everyone’s a fucking gourmet chef, Evan Buckley.” Maddie huffs indignantly, and Buck bites the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling. 

“Sorry. I’ll bring some wine too,” Buck says as a peace offering. He hasn’t told Maddie about getting the interview yet, wanting to save it as a surprise at dinner. He planned to bring wine to celebrate, and now he has an excuse without blowing his surprise at the door when Maddie inevitably asks him why he brought wine. 

“It better cost more than ten dollars for all the effort I’m putting in to make you dinner.”

“A bottle of nine ninety-nine vino and garlic bread, got it,” Buck deadpans as he slips on his leather sneakers. 

“Buck, I swear—” 

A loud crash cuts her off, and Buck winces as he pulls the phone from his ear, hoping she didn’t just drop their dinner on the floor or hurt herself. “Mads? You okay?” he asks as he locks his front door. 

“Chim?” comes Maddie’s muffled reply as if she’s covering the mic on her phone. “Chim, what was th—oh my god—” 

A piercing scream shrills from Buck’s phone speakers, the sound thin but no less bone-chilling. Buck’s hand freezes on the door handle of his car, and his throat closes as a second scream, more desperate and fearful than the first, shrieks through the phone. 

“Maddie?” Buck shouts. “Maddie? What’s going on? What’s wrong?” 

No answer. A loud thud. Grunts. Furniture crashing. Laboured breathing. 

Then the call goes dead. 

Buck dials Maddie’s number with shaky fingers, and he grips his phone so tight his hand hurts as he brings it back to his ears. Straight to voicemail. Shit. Shit shit shit _shit._

He hits redial. Still voicemail, and dread tightens like a noose around his neck. He jumps behind the wheel and calls Athena, hoping like hell she’s on duty tonight. 

She picks up on the second ring, and the whooshing of blood in his ears quiets a little. “Hey, Buck. I’m kinda in the middle of—”

“It’s Maddie. Something’s wrong,” Buck blurts. He starts the car, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder as he peels onto the road. “There was screaming and shit crashing and it sounded like there was struggling and I don’t know—”

“Slow down, boy,” Athena says, and the slight annoyance in her voice is replaced by something soothing. “Breathe.”

Buck takes a deep breath, then another. “I was on the phone with Maddie when I heard her screaming. Something’s wrong. She’s with Chim at his place.”

“I’m on my way,” she replies without question. “Where are you?”

“I’m headed there now. Please hurry.” 

“Don’t do anything stupid, Buck.” 

Buck hesitates, then replies, “I won’t.” 

He tosses the phone onto the passenger seat and white knuckles the steering wheel with both hands, trying not to kill himself as he speeds toward Chim’s house. Scenarios run through his head, each one wilder then the next. Is it a burglary? A terrorist attack? Someone Chim pissed off on a call coming back for revenge? 

None of it makes sense, and the more Buck tries not to think about it, the faster his head spins. What if this intruder hurts Maddie? Hurts them both? Are they just after jewellery or money or is there a home invasion serial killer on the loose? Fuck, maybe Maddie and Chim are already dead and there’s nothing he can do to—

Loud honking snaps him out of his thoughts, and Buck swerves, narrowly missing hitting another truck as he makes a left turn onto Chim’s street. A blue sedan is parked outside Chim’s modest two-story house, and Buck pulls up behind it before killing his engine. Athena is nowhere in sight. 

What now? Does he go in? Does he wait? Athena said to not do anything stupid—

A loud bang startles him, and his blood runs cold. 

Gunshot. That was a gunshot. 

_Shit._ Buck jumps out of his car and rushes up the front steps of Chim’s house, stopping outside the front door. The doorframe hangs in splinters as if someone kicked the door in, and Buck nudges it open gently before slipping inside. 

The unmistakable sharp odour of gasoline hits him in the face and he gags. 

The foyer is dark, and it takes a second for his eyes and lungs to adjust to the darkness and fumes. He holds perfectly still and strains to hear anything that may give him a hint of what’s going on. Voices drift down the hall. He doesn’t recognize the man’s, but he’s sure the woman is Maddie. Relief floods through him. Maddie’s alive. But as soon as that relief hits, dread washes over him like a bucket of ice water. 

Where’s Chim?

Once he can see beyond his fingers in front of his face, Buck follows the voices down the hall toward the light spilling from the kitchen. The floor is wet, and he tries not to gag as gas fumes clog his nose. Is the whole place doused in gas? 

Buck pauses every few steps and listens, and every time it’s the same man’s voice growing louder as he draws nearer. Just one guy, then. Maybe. And he’s armed. Buck has no weapons, no real combat training other than the few sparring sessions he did with Eddie at the gym, and he has no idea how to disarm a guy with a gun. But that’s his sister in there, and every second he wastes waiting could mean her death. Buck curses under his breath as he inches to the end of the hall leading to the kitchen. 

“You stupid bitch, you made me do this. This is all your fault,” the man spits, and there’s a note of madness in his voice. 

“I’m so sorry,” Maddie mumbles between sobs. “Please, just let me call—”

“Call? So you can tip them off?” the man shouts, and Buck clenches his fists when Maddie whimpers. “I don’t think so. You think you’re so fucking smart? You think you can get away from me? Again?” 

“Doug, please,” Maddie pleads, her voice breaking, “he’s dying.”  


Doug? Like Maddie’s ex-husband, Doug?

Buck inhales sharply and spots the expanding pool of blood on the floor inching toward the hallway. 

“And he deserves it for stealing another man’s wife,” Doug sneers. 

“I’m sorry, it’s all my fault. I left you, but Howie’s innocent. Just let me call an ambulance and I’ll go with you,” Maddie begs. “Wherever you want to go.” 

Buck inches forward in a crouch and drops to one knee, peering around the corner, and his stomach drops through the floor. Not two feet from him, Chim lays unconscious in a pool of blood on the wet kitchen floor, his hands clutching his bloody stomach. On the other side of the kitchen, Maddie’s sitting in a chair in the living room, her arms tied behind her. A nasty bruise darkens the side of her face, there’s blood dripping down her chin from a split lip, and one eye is swollen shut. 

Fear and anger rise in his throat like bile, and Buck grits his teeth as he forces himself to stay still. A tall man, with his back turned to Buck, paces in front of Maddie. He’s waving his gun around and mumbling, and every time he gets close to Maddie, she flinches. She looks terrified, and that air of defeat from all those years ago hangs over her cowering form. 

She glances up, and Buck pops out of his hiding spot. Her breath hitches when their eyes lock, and fear unlike anything Buck’s ever seen clouds her bruised and battered face. She swallows a sob and looks panicked between Buck and Chim and Doug. Buck nods, tries to convey with this one slight movement that he’s here to help, and a flicker of hope flashes in her one good eye.

Something changes in her expression, and she turns back to Doug with a forced smile. “Doug, baby, you’re right. You were always right,” she says, her voice soft and sweet.

Doug pauses mid-stride and snaps his attention to her, his body one motionless, tight coil.

“I still love you. I never stopped loving you. I was just confused, and I got scared so I ran,” she continues, and every word makes Buck want to vomit. “You always said I was the stupid one, and you’re right. I was too stupid to see that you were just looking out for me.”

“You—” Doug takes a step toward Maddie and cups her cheek, and Buck can’t imagine the courage it takes for Maddie to not recoil from the touch. “You’re lying to me. You want to trick me into letting you go—”

“No, baby,” Maddie whispers and turns her head, planting a kiss in Doug’s palm. “You helped me see reason. Thank you for coming to find me. I don’t deserve you.”

Doug’s shoulders slump, and he takes another step forward until he’s standing right in front of her. He crouches and stares at Maddie’s face for a long, tense moment, then leans forward and brushes a kiss across her busted lips. 

“My Maddie. I knew you’d come around,” he says, his voice tender and loving. It makes Buck’s skin crawl.

With Doug’s attention focused on Maddie, Buck darts forward and crouches behind the kitchen island. He touches two fingers to the pulse point on Chim’s neck and curses in his head. Chim’s heartbeat is erratic and weak, and he’s losing blood fast. If they don’t get him to a hospital soon, he’s not going to make it. 

Buck inches to the edge of the island and peers around the corner and finds himself less than three feet behind Doug. 

Maddie keeps her eyes trained on Doug, no doubt afraid if she wavered even a little, she could put Buck in jeopardy. She smiles, but Buck doesn’t miss the quiver in her lips and the barely disguised fear in her eye. “You were always right. I really am the stupid one of our relationship.”

“It’s okay,” he replies, his thumb stroking her bruised cheek. “You got me to take care of you.”

“You can’t do that if you’re wanted for murder, Doug,” she says without missing a beat. “You don’t want murder on your hands. Please, if you’ll just call for help—”

Doug shoots to his feet and backhands Maddie across the face. “You bitch. All you care about is _him,”_ he bellows.

He raises his hand to strike her again. Buck launches from behind the island counter and shoulder checks Doug just as he spins around. Doug stumbles, but he catches his footing and straightens before Buck can get a swing in. The gun comes up. Maddie screams. Buck grabs Doug’s wrist and tries desperately to keep the muzzle away from himself and Maddie. 

Doug takes a swing at him. He ducks, still hanging onto Doug’s gun arm with both hands, and they grapple away from Maddie. Something shifts in Doug, and his gun arm goes slack. Pain like exploding firecrackers lances through Buck’s side. Buck gasps, and he looks down in shock as Doug pulls the bloody knife out of his side. 

Buck knocks the gun from Doug’s fingers. More pain explodes in his shoulder, jagged and raw, and Buck cries out as he stumbles back, wrenching the knife from Doug’s grip. Doug rushes toward him, and Buck crouches low, waiting until the last minute before ducking under Doug’s large body. He catches Doug around the waist, then heaves with everything he’s got. 

Doug flies over Buck’s shoulder and lands on his back. Buck spins and jumps on top of Doug and his fist cracks against Doug’s jaw. His knuckles hurt, but Buck doesn't care as he brings his other fist down. Doug goes lax under him, but Buck lands two more punches for good measure before staggering to his feet.

“Buck,” Maddie shouts, her voice laced with panic. “Buck, are you okay?”

Buck hurries to Maddie’s side and yanks the knife from his shoulder. Fresh pain sends a wave of nausea through him, and it takes Buck a couple tries before he cuts the zip tie around Maddie’s wrists. Maddie falls into his arms, and they cling to each other in a fierce hug. Maddie’s safe. Relief rushes through him, making him dizzy. 

Maddie pulls back and frowns. “You’re bleeding.” 

“I’m fine.” The pain in his shoulder has subsided, and the wound in his side has faded to a dull ache. 

Maddie studies him for a second, then nods and rushes into the kitchen. “Doug smashed my phone,” she says as she kneels beside Chim. “Call nine-one-one and tell them Chim received blunt force trauma to the back of his head a gunshot wound in his stomach, and he’s lost a lot of blood.” 

Her voice is cool and collected from years of experience as an ER nurse, but her hands tremble when she peels back Chim’s shirt. The bullet hole in Chim’s stomach is still oozing fresh blood. She inhales sharply, then grabs a kitchen towel from the counter above her and presses it to the wound. Red seeps through the white towel, and it takes Buck a moment to snap out of it. He pulls out his phone and dials nine-one-one, relaying all the information Maddie gave him. 

Movement in his peripheral catches his attention, and Buck turns in time to see Doug staggering to his feet. He drops his phone and pivots, facing Doug and shielding Maddie and Chim as best as he can. Doug glares at him, then his eyes shift to Maddie and Chim behind him, and a nasty smile splits his face, turning his handsome features into something grotesque. 

“Burn in hell, bitch,” he spits, then pulls a lighter out of his pocket. 

Buck watches in horror as Doug flicks the lighter open, and an orange flame comes to life in slow motion. He wants to make a grab for it, but his feet are stuck in place as the lighter falls from Doug’s fingers. Blue flames ignite in a whoosh, and fire spreads across accelerant-soaked floors like a hungry serpent. Doug turns and dashes down the hall toward the front door with fire licking his heels.

“Buck, he doused the whole place in gas, we gotta get outta here,” Maddie shouts over the roaring flames. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck,” Buck chants. The hallway to the front door is engulfed in flames, and the living room burns with an eerie orange glow as the fire swallows more and more furniture. Thick, oily smoke just like last time billows around them, and Buck drops to the floor next to Maddie.

Maddie’s one good eye is wild as she stares around her, and her lips are trembling as she continues to apply pressure to Chim’s stomach wound. The heat and smoke burn his lungs, and Buck can’t help but feel trapped like a wild animal. Just like last time. 

Except, this isn’t like last time. This time, he’s ready. He takes a deep breath and shoots to his feet, then douses two more kitchen towels in cold water before handing one to Maddie. “Wrap this around your face. We’re not dying here tonight.” 

Maddie hesitates, then takes her hands off Chim’s wound long enough to tie the makeshift scarf around her face.

“Is there another way out?” Buck asks. 

“The sliding glass doors lead into the backyard,” Maddie replies, pointing toward the far side of the living room. 

Curtains on either side of the glass doors are ablaze, the door handle is a mess of melted plastic, and the smoke is so thick he can hardly keep his eyes open. He glances down the hall once more, confirming what he already knows is a dead end. The house groans in warning, and Buck makes up his mind. There’s no other way out. If they don’t want to die here, he knows what he needs to do.

Buck charges across the blazing room. Behind him, Maddie screams his name, but the roaring flames and the pounding of his heart drowns out her cries, and Buck braces for impact. He smashes into the glass at a full sprint, using his shoulder as a battering ram, and glass shards rain on him as he crashes through the door. 

Cold air blasts him as he falls onto the deck, and Buck sucks down gulp after gulp of sweet oxygen. He rolls onto his feet, readjusts his mask, then ducks back into the fire, grabbing the thick throw on the couch as he passes. Maddie has her sweater tied around Chim’s middle by the time Buck gets back to them, and she helps Buck wrap the blanket around Chim. With a grunt, Buck hoists Chim’s limp body over his shoulders. He’s done this move countless times with a practice dummy, but the real thing weighs on him not because Chim’s all that heavy, but his life is a lot more precious. 

He turns to Maddie and shouts, “Go!” 

And she takes off with him close on her heels. His body screams. Sweat drips into his eyes, and Chim’s body bounces like a ton of bricks on his shoulders, but he charges on. Through the smoke and heat and his own doubts and fears until his foot strikes vinyl decking and his lungs fill with cool air once more. 

There are flashing lights at the front of the house. Maddie turns to wrap her arm around his waist, and Buck’s chest swells with hope as they stumble down the side of the house. The sight of firetrucks and police cruisers and ambulances makes him cry out in relief, and suddenly, his feet are too heavy as he tries to keep up with Maddie. 

“Buck?” a familiar voice calls out, and Buck’s knees buckle. “Jesus Christ, Hen!” Eddie shouts as he sprints across the front lawn. 

He catches Buck just as his legs give out, and he falls into Eddie’s arms with Chim still on his back. Hen and another paramedic lift Chim’s body off him, and a third drags Maddie off even as she protests to stay with Buck. 

“Go, Maddie,” comes Eddie’s firm, soothing voice. “I’ve got him.” 

Buck clings to Eddie, and a calm washes over him when Eddie’s arms wrap around him and pull him close. The butt of Eddie’s radio digs into his cheek, and his helmet bumps against Buck’s head every time he moves, but Buck doesn’t care as he revels in simply being alive. Over Eddie’s shoulder, Athena is directing officers, no doubt to set up roadblocks as ladder one-eighteen works to put out the blazing inferno that was once Chim’s home. 

It all seems so surreal now that he’s on the outside, his skin still burning with remnant heat. And Eddie’s patting him down, stroking his hair and whispering in his ear. Buck hardly understands the words, but Eddie’s tone rouses him from his need to lie down and sleep for ten years. 

“Eddie, I’m fine, really,” Buck croaks, and his eyes feel too heavy to stay open. 

“Buck, you’re bleeding.” Eddie lays Buck on the ground gently. 

The grass tickles his ears and the back of his neck, but the cool earth is welcome against his scorched backside. His body hurts like he’d just been hit by a truck, and he’s just so damn tired. Eddie’s worried face hovers over him, and his frown deepens as he fusses over Buck. 

“Christ, Buck—”

He looks so upset, and for a second Buck wonders if they didn’t make it out of the house on their own after all. “Did you have to come in and save us again?” 

“No, _cariño,_ you got out all on your own,” Eddie says, voice thick. 

Buck smiles as relief washes over him, and he sags into the soft grass. “You’re not rescuing me from another burning building, Eds,” he mumbles. “Not doing that to you ever again.”

And the world fades to darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*Runs away*_


	31. Chapter 31

“Buck! Buck! Evan!” Eddie screams as he shakes Buck’s shoulders, trying to rouse him. 

Hands shove him back, and Eddie falls on his ass as two more paramedics rush to Buck, one of them placing an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. Years of training as a medic in the Army and an EMT and a firefighter, and Eddie freezes when it matters the most. 

One of the EMTs cut open Buck’s shirt, and Eddie’s insides roil. He’s covered in cuts and two deep gashes, one in his shoulder and one low in his side ooze with fresh blood. Buck looks so pale. Too pale. And Eddie swallows a sob. He should go help put out the fire or something, but he’s stuck as he watches others hoist Buck’s limp form onto a gurney. 

“Diaz,” a voice calls, then a large hand lands on his shoulder, startling him out of his stupor as he watches the gurney rattle toward the ambulance. “Eddie, go with them.” 

Eddie turns and finds Bobby beside him. His face is a serene mask of authority, but Eddie can see the fear and pain and concern in his eyes. “I can’t. The fire. And you should go with him, you’re his—”

“He’d want you there,” Bobby says and gives his shoulder a shove. “Now go. We got this.” 

Eddie sprints after the paramedics and climbs into the back of the bus, shutting the door behind him. He should help, but it’s as if his brain has turned to mush and he can’t even remember the most simple protocol. Hell, he can hardly remember how to breathe. The paramedics work in silent efficiency as they fight to keep Buck stable long enough for them to get to the hospital, and through it all, Eddie grips Buck’s hand and tries to ignore how cold his skin feels. 

The bumpy ride ends in a screech of tires. Eddie flings the doors open and help drag Buck’s gurney out, then it’s just a blur of nurses before the gurney is pushed through the ER doors and into the hospital. 

Eddie pauses outside the sliding glass doors. His jobs ends here. But his life is in there. With Buck. 

“Diaz,” one of the paramedics touches his arm. 

Eddie glances at him and nods. “Thanks for keeping him alive.”

He doesn’t respond, just squeezes Eddie’s arm once more before returning to the ambulance. Eddie steps toward the glass doors, and suddenly, he’s not a firefighter anymore. Not an EMT, not an Army medic. He’s just a man whose other half is on the other side of those doors, barely clinging to life. 

A nurse shows him to an empty waiting room, and Eddie thanks her and waits for her to leave before yanking off his helmet and dropping it onto a chair. He breathes through his mouth, trying to avoid the smell of antiseptic burning the inside of his nose, but the sterile taste coats his tongue and washes over him anyway. 

He’ll never get used to the smell of hospitals despite being a regular visitor for Chris’ condition. The disinfectant masks the scent of death and despair, but they can’t mask the memories, and Eddie struggles against the pull down memory lane. He shrugs out of his heavy outer jacket, letting it crumple on top of his helmet, then slumps into a plastic chair unlike the one he sat in three years ago in a different hospital from another city. 

They fought that day. Shannon wanted to leave Texas, wanted to finally go on the adventure she’d dreamt of. The adventure she’d had to put on hold because of one drunken, careless night of fun. 

“Chris is still young,” she said, “he can adjust to a new school easier if we go now.” 

Eddie didn’t know how to explain to her why the idea of driving all the way into California scared the shit out of him. He was a soldier, a vet, he’d faced down worse things than a lengthy car drive with his wife and child. Yet, the idea of packing up and leaving everything behind scared him so damn much it left him in cold sweats. 

What would he do in California? What would Shannon do? How would they provide for their family? For Chris and all his hospital bills? California was expensive, and Eddie hadn’t even figured out how to live in his home town again after coming back from the Army. The idea of walking into glamorous Hollywood was worse than walking into a field of IEDs, and Eddie just wasn’t ready. 

“What’s wrong with Texas?” he asked, indignation thick in his voice. “I’ve hardly been home and you already want to drag me back out there again?” 

“But I thought—”

“I’m not that guy anymore, Shannon,” he bit back. “I grew up. It’s about time you did too.”

Regret punches through Eddie, fresh like the day he uttered those words. Shannon grew up long before he did. She went through her pregnancy alone, gave birth alone, and raised Chris through the toughest years of his life alone. He knows that now, but it’s too little, too late. 

Eddie takes a shuddering breath and rakes shaky fingers through his hair. He doesn’t want to think about that day. Doesn’t want to think about the pain in Shannon’s eyes when she stormed out of their kitchen. Doesn’t want to think about how that was the last time he saw her alive. 

But he has nothing but time on his hands, and every second dragging by is another second where he hangs in limbo, unsure whether Buck will make it out of surgery. His mind wanders, and Eddie closes his eyes as tears threaten to spill. 

He picked up her favourite takeout for dinner that night, having dropped Chris off at his parents’ place for a last-minute sleepover. He knew, even then, that he was out of line, and he wanted to make up for it with the best tacos in town and a little romancing. The call came from the hospital right after he’d set the table, and his life came crashing down around him. 

It was in a waiting room like this one where he sat with his heart in his throat, wrapped in a blanket of dread, as he waited for the doctor to come out of surgery. A car crash, they told him, and she was in critical condition when the ambulance arrived. Her parents were out of town. He was alone in that waiting room. Alone like she was for so many years of their marriage. Alone like he is now.

The waiting kills him, but he doesn’t know how to make the seconds go faster. 

Hot tears stream down his face, dripping down his chin, and all Eddie can do is to let them flow. He knows this isn’t the same. He’s in LA, and Buck isn’t Shannon, but it’s hard to differentiate between then and now when he’s stuck in the same sterile room, smelling the same disinfectant, waiting on the same damn procedure and hoping for a different outcome. Hoping for a miracle he’s too afraid to voice. Wishing with every fibre of his being that it’s him in there instead of Buck. 

“Daddy.” Chris’ soft voice jolts him out of his thoughts, and Eddie looks up to find Carla and Chris standing in the doorway of the waiting room. 

Something breaks inside him and despite all his efforts of trying to hold himself together, he crumples. Chris’ crutches clatter to the floor as he rushes toward Eddie, and his skinny arms are strong as they circle around Eddie’s neck. He clings to Chris’ slight frame, hugging him close, and buries his nose in Chris’ neck as fear and grief wash over him. He should feel ashamed, after all he’s the parent, but it’s Chris who strokes his hair and kisses his cheek and tells him Buck will be okay. 

When Eddie finally pulls away from Chris, Carla’s sitting next to him. She picks up the backpack by her feet and hands it to Eddie. “Why don’t you go change out of your work clothes, sugar?” 

Eddie looks at the backpack, then at Carla and Chris and shakes his head. “I can’t I gotta—”

“The nurse who showed us in says it’ll be awhile still,” she says, pressing the strap of the backpack into his hand. “I’ll be here and I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

“But I don’t have my phone,” he argues. “It’s all still back at the station.”

“Not anymore it isn’t.” Hen’s voice drags their attention toward the door, and the lump lodged in Eddie’s throat swells. 

Hen, Athena, Bobby, Harry, May, and two other guys from the one-eighteen pile into the waiting room. Everyone’s out of their uniforms, and Hen’s holding a plastic bag with what Eddie can only assume are his clothes. Everyone finds a spot in the room and settles in for the wait. Hen takes a seat across from Eddie and hands him his phone. 

“We’re all here for him, Eddie,” Hen says, voice soft and calm. “And for you. Buck’s a stubborn boy. He’ll pull through.” 

Eddie palms his phone and takes a deep breath, still unconvinced he should go. Athena, Harry, and May sit down in his bubble, next to Chris and Carla, and Eddie can feel Athena’s eyes boring into him. 

“I know you still feel guilty for leaving that night,” she says, and Eddie’s heart skips a beat, “but this ain’t the same. Go get changed and get something to eat. We’ll call you as soon as we know anything.” 

Whatever fight’s left in Eddie evaporates as he stares into Athena’s beautiful brown eyes, so sincere and full of love and acceptance. Something settles in Eddie’s chest and he’s overcome with gratitude. This isn’t like that night. He’s not alone. Buck’s not alone. 

He nods, picks up the backpack, and pushes to his feet. A small hand tugging on his pant leg stops him. “ _Ay, mijo?”_

“I love you, daddy.” 

Eddie sways on his feet as fresh tears well in his eyes. He swallows and wipes away the moisture before they take hold and reaches down and ruffles Chris’ hair. “Love you, too.”

He finds the closest bathroom and changes into the soft, worn jeans and t-shirt Carla packed for him, then stops by the sink on his way out and splashes water on his face. He stares into the mirror, and his reflection stares back at him. He looks haggard with pale skin and dark circles, but the eyes looking back at him are full of hope. 

Hope and a fierce belief that this time things will be different. 

Eddie smiles, and an invisible weight lifts from his shoulders. His family is here to support him, and whatever happens, he’ll be ready. He stops by the coffee shop and grabs seven coffees for the adults and three hot chocolates for the kids, even though May will probably roll her eyes at being thought of as a kid. 

With three trays balanced between two hands and a plastic bag stuffed with sugar packets and creamers and stir sticks, Eddie makes his way back. He turns the corner and glimpses a man in green scrubs darting into the waiting room. 

His heart lodges in his throat as blood whooshes inhis ears, and Eddie runs down the hall and into the room just as the man asks, “Who here’s Evan Buckley’s family?” 


	32. Chapter 32

Everything fucking _hurts._

Buck wants to escape back into the soft embrace of sleep where there're no aches and pains, but his body has other ideas. Something feels off, wrong, but Buck can’t put his finger on it as he floats in that space between sleep and wakefulness. He tries to pinpoint the source of that wrongness, but every time he thinks he’s close, it slips through his fingers like water. 

The soft whirring of machines and a distant, constant beeping pulls him closer to the surface, and there's something warm and comforting in his hand. He can’t tell what it is, but it chases away that wrongness, at least for now, and it feel safe. 

He blinks, his eyelids heavier than lead, but the sight that greets him makes him smile. “Eddie,” he croaks. 

Eddie’s face swims into focus, and as he brings Buck’s hand to his lips, Buck realizes it’s Eddie’s hand that’s kept him safe all this time. 

“Thank god, Buck,” Eddie murmurs as he leans in close. “Welcome back.”

Buck blinks a few more times, torn between wanting to lean up and kiss Eddie and never wanting to move again because everything still fucking _hurts._ Eddie takes the dilemma out of his hands by leaning in and brushing his lips across Buck’s in a tender, feather-light kiss, and Buck sinks hums with contentment. 

Which lasts a total of zero point three seconds. So many heads pop into view they block out the overhead light. Bobby, Athena, Harry, May, Carla, and Christopher shove their way to Buck’s side, and the same relieved, cheerful expression is mirrored on everyone’s faces. But one face is missing, and dread sits in Buck’s stomach like a giant boulder. 

“Where’s Maddie?” he asks. 

“Bathroom,” Athena answers without missing a beat, and the boulder drops. 

“And Chim?”

“He’s out of surgery and recovering,”Bobby says. “He’ll be okay, thanks to you.”

Heat crawls up Buck’s neck, and he struggles to sit. Eddie takes his elbow and helps him up, and May shoves a pillow behind his back. 

“Don’t you ever do that again, Buck,” she growls, but the love and relief in her eyes negate the bite in her words. May is fierce and beautiful just like her mother, and she's got Athena’s soft heart, too. 

“I have no plans for a repeat performance,” Buck says through a wince, and the tension in May’s jaw melts as he leans over and gives him a tender hug.

“Buck?” comes Maddie’s voice, and the wall of people beside his bed parts to let her through. 

She takes one look at him and bursts into tears, and Buck’s chest aches for a whole different reason. He lets go of Eddie’s hand and reaches for her, and she falls into his embrace even as she gathers him into her arms protectively. The aches and pains are all worth it now that he’s got Maddie safe in his arms, and he’d do it all over again if it means keeping her, or any other members of his family safe. 

“How’re you feeling?” she asks when she pulls back and gives him a critical once over.

“I’ve been better,” he says. “How about you?”

“A little banged up, but it’s all superficial.” She touches her black eye and smiles. 

“How long have I been out?” 

“Just under twenty-four hours,” Eddie replies, and Buck turns his attention back to him. 

“Sh—I mean shoot, I was out for that long?”

“You had a pretty traumatic evening and extensive surgery,” Athena clucks. 

The events of the night before flashes before Buck’s eyes, and he sits straighter, alarmed. “And Doug? Where’s Doug?”

Athena’s eyes harden. “Ran straight into my shop. He’s behind bars and waiting on trial for two counts of arson, attempted kidnapping, and three counts of attempted murder.”

“Wait, two counts of arson?” Eddie turns and faces Athena. 

“CCTV caught him on camera setting fire to Maddie’s apartment.” 

“Why?” 

“He wanted to save me from the fire so I’d go back to him,” Maddie answers, her voice soft but no less angry. “He didn’t count on Buck being there that night, so he ran.” When all eyes stare at her in surprise, she shrugs. “He told me right before Buck got there. I’m just glad he’s finally gone for good.”

Silence fills the room, and everyone seems lost in thought. Buck sags into his pillow and lets out a slow sigh. If he hadn’t been there that night at Maddie’s, god knows what could have happened. The thought of that what-if sends an icy chill down his spine, and Buck shivers.

“Buck?” Christopher’s voice cuts through the muted tension in the room, and Buck turns to the boy standing by his bed. 

“Yeah, bud?”

“Whatever you do, don’t eat the meatloaf.” 

Buck blinks, surprised, then chuckles, and the rest of the room joins in. “Yeah? Is it that bad?”

“It’s the worst. Trust me,” he says matter-of-factly, and Buck’s fondness for him grows even stronger. 

“Okay. I won’t touch it. Promise.” 

“Also,” Bobby says as he takes a step back, his arm around Athena’s shoulders. “You don’t have to worry about making your interview on Wednesday.”

Buck’s heart sinks. There’s no way he’d be ready for that interview, not with him feeling like a freight train just hit him. If he’s lucky, maybe they’ll draw his name again next year, but it doesn’t help lessen the sting of disappointment. “Yeah, I figured as much.” 

“Wait, you got the interview?” Maddie asks incredulously. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Was gonna tell you over dinner.”

“Oh.” 

“Don’t look so sad. I said you don't have to make the interview, not that you lost the interview all together,” Bobby says. 

“What?” Buck and Eddie says in sync, and they look to each other in confusion.

“Your old man pulled some strings, and they agreed, based on the circumstances, that you deserve a break,” Bobby continues. “I’ll call and set up another interview for you as soon as you’re ready. The only condition is you have to pass CPAT again to prove you’re physically ready for the tower.” 

“Yes!” Buck exclaims, the word dying on a wince as something pulls painfully in his side. Stitches. Right.

He drops back against the pillow and tries to breathe through the pain, and Eddie takes his hand once more. 

Bobby squeezes Buck’s good shoulder and smiles. “On that happy note, we should leave and let you get some rest.” 

Buck wants to argue that he’s fine, but he’s exhausted. Despite the fatigue, he insists on a hug from everyone as they get up and leave. Bobby stops by his bed last and bends down to give him a gentle hug. 

“I’m proud of you, son,” he murmurs in Buck’s ear, and Buck swallows as a lump lodges in his throat. 

“Thanks, dad.” 

Bobby closes the door behind him, and then there’s just the two of them. Eddie helps Buck lay down and fusses with his pillow and blankets until he’s satisfied. Buck doesn’t stop him, basking in the attention because it’s Eddie fussing over him. 

He reaches up—like he has done so many times every day ever since Eddie gave him the collar—to run his hand along the thin leather strip. Except, this time, it’s not there, and that wrongness he couldn’t quite place crashes into him like a tsunami. 

The heart rate monitor beeps faster, and Buck claws as his neck, hoping to find the collar tucked under his hospital gown as fear courses through him. How? When? He doesn’t remember. How could he have not noticed? What sort of sub loses his collar and not notice? Was it back at the fire? Is it too late to go back and look for it?

Eddie grabs his wrists and holds him still, and concern fills his wide browns eyes as he stares down at Buck. “ _Cariño,_ what’re you—”

“My collar,” Buck blurts, and his voice sounds as panicked as he feels. “My collar, it’s gone. I don’t—Eddie—I’m so sorry—I—”

Eddie presses a soft finger to Buck’s lips, and that single touch smoothes the jagged edges of Buck’s nerves and quiets his mind. Eddie studies Buck for a long, quiet moment, his soft brown eyes searching, then he leans close and brushes a tender kiss on the corner of Buck’s mouth. 

“Baby, breathe,” he says, and that soft command is all it takes for Buck’s lungs to work again. “I’m so proud of you, Buck—”

Buck makes a noise of protest, but Eddie’s finger presses more firmly against his lips, and Buck falls quiet. 

“—and I never ever want you to apologize for something that’s outside of your control.” Eddie removes his finger, replacing it with his lips as he darts in for another quick kiss. “You did what you had to do to save your sister and our friend, and I can never ever be mad at you for losing your collar that way. Or any other way for that matter. Accidents happen, especially in our line of work. I can replace the collar, but I can’t replace you, Buck, and you’re what’s most important to me.”

Deep down, Buck knows this, but hearing Eddie say the words, seeing that proud shimmer in Eddie’s eyes, it’s worth more than a hundred collars to Buck. Eddie loves him, not what he represents or what he can be for Eddie physically, and their bond is stronger than a strip of leather. He nods, and the slight movement knocks loose a tear he didn’t know he had. 

Eddie kisses his cheek, lips brushing away that single stray tear, and Buck sighs in true contentment. He shuffles back, and Eddie crawls into the narrow hospital bed, wrapping his arms around Buck until gentle darkness claims him once more. 

===

Buck loads the last of the dishes into the dishwasher just as the front door slams shut, and Carla sniffs her way into the kitchen. 

“Evan Buckley, you keep this up and I’m gonna need Eddie to add a gym membership to my pay,” she says indignantly even as she filches a cheese scone off the cooling rack. She cracks the warm treat open and inhales, her eyes fluttering shut as she breathes in the aroma of cheddar cheese, baked apples, butter, and flour. “I don’t know what you do to them, but these’re hands down the best scones I’ve ever had.”

“The secret’s in the butter,” Buck replies with a wink. “Frozen cultured butter.”

“As opposed to melted uncouth butter?” 

Buck laughs and shakes his head. It’s been two weeks since he was discharged from the hospital. Despite him reassuring Eddie he could take care of himself, Eddie insisted he move in with him right away so Buck wouldn’t be alone during recovery. So, with the help of their friends, he moved in with Eddie, Christopher, and Carla, and he couldn’t be happier with his new roommates. 

Even if they wouldn’t let him out into the backyard without adult supervision until yesterday. 

Bed rest was what the doctor ordered, and bed rest he got the minute he arrived at his new digs. He might have complained loud and hard about not even being allowed to go to the bathroom alone, but secretly, Buck enjoyed all the fussing and attention.

It’s nice to be loved and cared for. 

“How’s Maddie and Chim settling in their new place?” 

“They love it.” Buck presses the back of his knuckles to the tray of cooling scones, then bends down to grab plastic containers from the bottom cabinet drawer. The wound in his side smarts, the skin still tender. “I’m just glad my landlord was cool enough to let them move in when I moved out.”

“Me too,” Carla says as she finishes her scone. She eyes the tray, and Buck pulls it back protectively before placing each scone delicately into the plastic container. “Where’re you going with those?”

“To see Chim, then to the station.” He looks over his shoulder at the two stacks of cookies and scones and bars and muffins and a bunch of other things he’s made over the past week out of sheer boredom and grimaces. “Besides, you’re not the only one complaining about all the baked goods.”

Carla clucks. “That boy doesn’t know how good he has it, and I’m not talking about Christoper.” 

“Of course not.” Buck rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the smirk tugging at his lips. 

Carla walks around the kitchen counter and pulls Buck in for a quick hug. When she steps back, the smile on her face is soft and genuine and lacking their usual teasing sass. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Buck nods and returns her smile. “I’m getting there.”

“If you need anything, you let me know.” Her sincere eyes search his face, and Buck swallows past the lump suddenly lodged in his throat. 

Despite the nightmares and the pain of recovery, Buck hasn’t felt this good in a long, long time. Carla, Eddie, Christopher, they’re his family now, a family that chose him, and there’s nothing in this world that can take that away from him. 

Carla gives his arm one more squeeze and clears her throat. “Well, I got some errands to run before Christopher’s off. I better be going.” 

“Yeah.” Buck also clears his throat and blinks rapidly, not wanting to get all teary eyed. He’d done a lot of crying in the past two weeks, and this is not the time for more tears. “See you at dinner.”

“Looking forward to it.” She winks before heading down the hall toward her room. 

Buck chuckles as he balances two stacks of plastic containers in his arms and grabs his keys off the kitchen counter. The drive to his old place takes no time. He knocks on the door, then waves at the camera door bell Maddie installed as soon as they moved in. It makes Buck’s chest ache and his stomach heave when he thinks about the abuse his sister must have endured, and the trauma she must relive even if Athena assured them Doug’s conviction will be a slam dunk. 

The door swings open, and Maddie’s smiling face greets him. The cuts and bruises have healed, some have even faded, but the haunted look in her eyes are back, and Buck doesn’t miss the way she checks behind him left then right before relaxing as she returns her attention to him.

“Hey, Buck, what’re you doing here?”

“Just thought I’d stop by and drop off some baking.” He holds out the plastic bag bulging with containers. 

Her eyes light up as she takes the bag from him. “Did you happen to make those mini lemon tarts I love so much?”

“Do bears shit in the woods?” Her smile crinkles the corners of her eyes, and for a second, that shadow hanging over her disappears. “How’s Chim?” 

“He’s sleeping. You wanna come in?” 

Buck shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to disturb him, and you should rest too. Besides, I got more baking to drop off at the station.”

Her eyes pop wide and her eyebrows hike up to her hairline. “You stress baking again?”

“No.”

“Buck.”

Buck sighs and smiles sheepishly. “Only when the nightmares hit and I don’t want to disturb Eddie when he’s already burning the candle on ends.”

Her eyes soften, and she grasps Buck’s hand in hers. Her fingers are slender, but the strength pouring from them fills Buck with warmth. “If you ever want to talk, you know I’m here.”

He takes her hand in his and squeezes. “I know. And if you ever need to talk, I’m just a phone call away.” 

Buck wasn’t there for her when she met Doug. Wasn’t there when she escaped him. But he’s here now, and he’ll do everything he can to help her heal again. They’ll help _each other_ heal. They did it once, they can do it again. Buck’s sure of it. 

When he gets behind the wheel again, he feels lighter and the world around him brightens a little. He arrives at the firehouse as shift change happens. He stops just inside the open garage and takes it all in, inhaling deeply as he imagines what it would be like to step into the station every day with a purpose. To don the uniform with his name embroidered on the breast pocket. To hustle when the bell rings, and to make Sunday dinner for his _coworkers_ instead of his friends. 

“Buck?” Hen’s voice pulls him out of his daydreams, and Buck blinks as she approaches him. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

Buck pulls a face and rolls his eyes. “Don’t even start. Eddie’s had me under house and bed arrest for two weeks. I’m going crazy.”

She eyes the bag in Buck’s hand and smirks. “Hence the baking?”

Buck nods and opens the bag, letting her get a peak at the contents. “You’re off for the day?”

“Yeah. Been here since yesterday.” She groans. “But I’m glad to see you’re doing better.”

“And he’ll be even better when I tell him the good news,” Bobby says from behind Buck, and he spins around just as Bobby pulls him in for a hug. 

Buck breathes in the clean scent of Bobby’s aftershave and luxuriates in the safety of his arms for a minute longer before pulling back. “What good news?”

“Got your interview rescheduled for next Monday.”

“No way!” Buck’s heart hammers in his chest as he tries not to jump up and down like a little boy on Christmas morning. “They said they couldn’t fit me in until the end of the hiring season.”

“I'm not just a pretty face, you know?” Bobby slaps him on the shoulder. His mouth opens as if he’s about to say something else when he spots the bag of containers in Buck’s hand. “Wait, do you have those cheddar apple scones in there?”

“Yeah,” Buck digs out the biggest container from the bottom and hands it to Bobby. 

“Your mom has been missing these since you moved out.”

“I know.”

Bobby rolls his eyes, but his expression turns serious when he looks shrewdly from the big stack of containers to Buck. "I know Eddie’s a great guy and dom, but if you ever need a fatherly shoulder to cry on—"

“I know where you live, pops.” Buck punches Bobby’s shoulder playfully, trying to cover up the quiver in his voice. 

Bobby’s expression softens, but it’s no less serious. “Love you, son.”

“Love you too, dad.” 

Hen clears her throat, and Buck’s face burns. He’s forgotten he has an audience. “We’ll my wife’s waiting for me at home, I better get going.”

Buck pulls out a random box and hands it to Hen. “Just bring the container back and give it to Eddie, will ya? He’s weirdly possessive about his Tupperware.” 

Hen laughs and nods before waving them goodbye. More people come up to him as the morning shift head home, and Bobby disappears with the large container of scones while Buck hands out cookies and scones and muffins as more people come to greet him. By the time the little crowd that’s gathered around him dissipated, Buck’s bag is empty but his heart is fit to burst. 

The alarm blares, and Buck takes a step back as the afternoon shift dash into the garage and put on their gear before piling into the fire engine and ambulance. They’re out in a flash, and the air is charged with energy even though the garage is eerily silent.

Strong arms circle around Buck’s waist from behind, and he jumps when plump lips graze his ear. “Hey, hot stuff.”

Buck turns in Eddie’s arms and breathes a sigh. “Hey. Ready to go home?”

Eddie leans in and presses his lips to Buck’s in a slow, tender kiss. Buck’s eyes flutter shut, and he melts against Eddie, his lips tingling as Eddie licks across the seam of his mouth. Something’s changed between them since Buck’s near-death experience. It’s a subtle shift, one Buck hasn’t even noticed until right now with Eddie kissing him under the glow of the afternoon sun streaming through the garage door of the firehouse. 

There’s an aggressive sureness in the way Eddie touches him, in the way he kisses him, and in the way he expects Buck’s submission. He doesn’t treat Buck like some fragile thing to be protected anymore, but a precious thing to be cherished and loved with all the fierceness that makes up Eddie Diaz. It makes the kisses that much sweeter, their every touch that much more electrifying, and Buck can’t get enough of this new thing between them. 

Yet, despite that, touching Eddie, kissing Eddie, making love to Eddie, it all feels like coming home. He belongs. He’s earned his place beside Eddie. Earned his right to love and be loved simply by being himself. And isn’t that just the sweetest fucking feeling in the world? 

Eddie pulls away, and Buck’s chest aches with the loss of Eddie’s lips. He darts in for another kiss, his body _demanding_ for the taste just one more time, but Eddie shakes his head. He reaches into his back pocket, and Buck’s breath catches when he sees it. 

A thin strip of braided brown leather unfurls from Eddie’s fingers, and he loops it around Buck’s neck before securing the clasp with trembling fingers. The leather is feather-light and hefty at the same time, and the warmth of the collar sets Buck’s spirits soaring. 

Eddie studies the collar as if memorizing the sight of it laying against Buck’s skin, and Buck can almost feel the tension roll off Eddie’s shoulders. He takes a step closer to Buck, and Buck takes a step closer to him. Their noses bump. Eddie looks up. And Buck loses himself in the warm depth of those golden browns. 

“Be mine, Evan Buckley?” Eddie whispers into the infinitesimal space between them. 

“Always.” 

Because, really, was there ever any doubt? 

THE END


	33. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The grand finale. It's been such an incredible journey, and I appreciate and thank every one of you who stuck with me for 32 weeks! I've come to love these two idiots so much that now that it's over, I'm left sitting here feeling like a hollowed out shell, but at the same time I'm so glad they can finally have their happy ending. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who commented and left kudos! Even if I don't have time to respond, know that I read and cherish every bit of feedback (and I will try to go back to them and respond when I can!). I hope this story brought a little bit of happiness into your lives! 
> 
> If you have feelings and want to scream at me, please feel free! And without further ado, the Epilogue!

_Eddie_

Evan Buckley passed his interview with flying colours. He also passed his psychological evaluation and background check with ease and completed the Drill Towers at the top of his class. Just like Eddie said he would. And if that makes Eddie the smug little dom who beat his sub’s ass cherry red for ever doubting himself? Well, that’s kind of within his rights, too.

The only disappointing outcome after all the hard work is Buck’s not assigned to the one-eighteen. Eddie can understand why, but that doesn’t make it suck any less, and it definitely doesn’t stop the one-eighteen from throwing Buck the best surprise party of his life. 

Which is why they’re here, in their bedroom, with Buck on his knees and his pretty lips wrapped around Eddie’s cock at two in the afternoon while the rest of the team scramble to get the party set up at Bobby’s house. Eddie’s job is to keep Buck entertained and unsuspecting, and the best way to do that is to take him so far into subspace he can’t find his way out with a talking GPS. 

Buck’s so different from the man Eddie met a year and a half ago, and he’s made Eddie a different man, too. A better man who’s no longer afraid to face his demons. A stronger man who has the strength to look in the mirror every morning and like the man staring back at him. 

Eddie fell in love the day he walked into that community centre and laid eyes on the kindest, most compassionate person he’d ever met. The fact he’s also hot as all hell with legs for days is definitely a bonus. 

He cards his fingers through Buck’s hair and drinks him in. His hair’s getting long around the ears, and the strands curl in that adorable way Buck hates, but Eddie finds endearing as hell. His large, blue eyes are glassy and lust-blown as they stare up at Eddie, and there’s so much devotion in his face. So much vulnerability and trust and love that it takes Eddie’s breath away no matter how many times he looks at it. 

Buck’s lips are glistening and red and stretched obscenely wide around Eddie’s cock, and a trickle of saliva drips down the side of his chin. He holds perfectly still, hands behind his back, knees spread, and his cock is a beautiful, steel arc. The head is flushed pink, and a trickle of pre-come drips to the floor between his kneeling legs. 

Eddie thrusts his hips forward and watches with satisfaction when Buck’s throat bulges. God, but he’s so fucking gorgeous like this. Eddie fucks Buck’s throat slowly, with languid strokes and deep thrusts, making sure Buck feels and tastes every inch of him. It’s just how Buck likes to be used, and today, Buck gets to play with all his favourite toys. 

Buck moans, and his long, damp lashes fan against his cheeks every time he blinks. He swallows around Eddie’s cock, and his silky throat massages Eddie’s cock so perfectly it almost tips him over. Eddie curses, then picks up his phone and opens the app he and Buck installed recently. 

_Device connected_. The app prompts after a moment of waiting, and Eddie can’t help but smile when he taps the play button. Buck jumps, his beautiful eyes widen for a second before they flutter shut as a shudder runs through him. A muted buzzing fill the air, and Buck’s back goes ram-rod straight when Eddie taps the plus sign in the app. 

“That feel good, _cariño?”_

Buck chokes out a grunt around Eddie’s cock, and his entire body sways to the rhythmic thrum of the vibrator in his ass that Eddie’s controlling through the nifty app on his phone. The toy was expensive, but it’s worth every penny. Through the app, Eddie can get Buck off or keep him on edge for hours no matter how far away he is, which makes the slow overnight shifts go by just a little faster when he’s controlling Buck’s vibrator from under the covers in his bunk at the station. 

Eddie increases the speed and nearly chokes on his exhale when Buck’s throat clenches around his cock. Buck’s trembling, and his cock is so hard it’s flush against his stomach. The head is a deep purple, and the trickle of pre-come has turned into a stream. Maybe Eddie should have put a cock ring on him, but watching Buck struggle to not come untouched is just as hot, if not hotter. 

“You wanna come, baby?” Eddie croaks and turns the vibrator up even higher. Buck’s brows furrow in a deep frown, and his deep blue eyes are trained on Eddie in a silent plea. “You deserve to come, pet?”

Buck keens, and the vibration of his voice sends a jolt of pleasure down Eddie’s cock. He can keep teasing Buck, but he needs Buck to be lucid when it’s time for them to leave the house for the next part of Operation Occupy-Buck. Eddie brushes more loose strands of hair from Buck’s forehead and grips the back of his head, his other hand fumbling with his phone. 

“Come, Buck. Come with my cock down your throat.” He jacks the vibrator to the max, and Buck’s entire body folds in on itself as a pearl of come blurts from the head of his erection. 

Eddie keeps Buck’s head still, his cock jammed so far down Buck’s throat there’s no way he’s breathing, and he watches as ropes of come gush from the tip of Buck’s twitching cock, the milky white release pooling on the floor between Buck’s wide knees. Watching Buck come untouched always gets him, and before Eddie knows, he’s pumping his release down Buck’s throat. 

Buck swallows over and over, milking him dry even as he rides out his own orgasm, and Eddie’s eyes roll into the back of his head as he loses himself for a split second where his universe shrinks down to the velvet heat of Buck’s mouth and throat. He allows himself a moment of satisfaction before pulling back enough to allow Buck air, then turns off the vibrator using his phone. Buck sags back on his haunches, his stomach still clenching and unclenching as his cock leaks. He looks wrecked in all the right ways, his skin flushed down his shoulders and chest, and his chest heaves with every laboured breath as he fights to stay upright. 

Eddie helps Buck onto the bed, arranging him face down so he can untie the silk scarf—they’re working up to rope—around his wrists. When Eddie makes to reach for the vibrator, Buck moves away with a petulant whine.

“You want to keep it in?”

“Harrumph” is all the reply Eddie gets. It’s a good thing he speaks fucked-out-Buck so fluently. He checks his phone for the time, then swats at Buck’s naked butt. 

“Don’t you go falling asleep on me.”

Buck turns to Eddie and cracks open one eye lazily. “Why not?”

“I got plans for us.” Eddie leans over and bites Buck’s butt cheek, grinning when Buck jerks with a yelp. “So get up and get cleaned up.” 

Buck glares at him, but the mischievous glint in his eyes robs it of heat. “Join me in the shower then?”

“Gladly.”

===

_Buck_

What should have been a ten-minute shower turns into a thirty-minute love-making session. And Buck is a-okay with that, especially since his favourite way to come out of subspace is with Eddie buried deep inside him. 

“Take me to bed,” Buck gasps against the wet tile as he pushes his hips back, angling to take Eddie deeper. 

Eddie stills him with a hand on the small of his back, and Buck whimpers. “Easy, baby, we gotta finish up and get going.”

“Where’re we going that’s more important than sex?” Buck tries and fails to keep the petulance out of his voice. 

Eddie chuckles and presses his chest against Buck’s back, his lips tickling Buck’s ear. “You’ll see.”

Before Buck can ask anymore questions, Eddie snaps his hips forward, burying himself so far it knocks the breath from Buck’s lungs. Buck balls his fists against the slippery tiles, and Eddie’s large hands cover them like his body is covering Buck’s. 

Possessive. 

Buck shouts in shocked pleasure when Eddie pistons into him with an uncontrolled ferocity he rarely gives into. It’s exhilarating, and Buck doesn’t even care that he’ll be walking funny for days. All he wants is to feel Eddie’s cock stirring up his insides over and over until he forgets his own damn name. Until the entire world ceases to exist save for the next thrust. And the next. And the next. 

Eddie lets go of Buck’s right hand and drags his fingers down Buck’s heaving chest and clenching stomach to grasp his aching cock. It’s not a gentle pressure, far from it, and the painful pleasure spreads from Buck’s groin up his spine and down into his toes. It hurts. It’s too much. It’s not enough. And Buck is tossed about in the perfect storm brewing inside him. It’s another stroke, another thrust, and Buck’s screaming, his eyes clenched shut, as his orgasm punches through him. 

Behind him, Eddie’s hips stutter, his rhythm becoming wild and untameable. Then everything stills, and Buck sags against the cold tiles as the heat of Eddie’s pleasure fills him. Being filled by Eddie’s cock, his come, it’s almost better than subspace. It completes him in a way Buck never thought possible, and in that moment between release and reality, he hangs in quiet harmony broken only by Eddie’s gasps. 

Buck clenches his ass and grins when Eddie hisses. He wants to keep Eddie there, inside him, for all eternity, but all good things must come to an end. He can’t help the wince when Eddie slips from his abused hole, but the gentle caress of Eddie’s soapy fingers and warm water soothes away the soreness. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Eddie murmurs against Buck’s shoulder, his fingers massaging Buck’s hole even as he cleans away the evidence of their love-making. 

“What for?”

“You’re gonna be walking funny for days.”

“Pft, you mean I’m gonna be reminded of how well you fucked me for days,” Buck says as he turns around, facing Eddie. “I like to be reminded.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but his smile is soft and content. “Of course you do. But this is going to make what we’re going to do next a little uncomfortable.”

“I’ve been through worse.” 

Eddie’s gaze flicks to the puckered scar on Buck’s shoulder, and Buck regrets his words as soon as he said them. It’s been months since the incident with Doug. Months of gruelling recovery to get back into shape so he could take the physical exam again before starting the tower. Months of nightmares that are finally petering out. Months of catching Eddie watching him with guilt in his eyes when he thinks Buck’s not looking. 

Buck doesn’t know why Eddie thinks any of that was his fault, and he has a feeling he’ll never truly understand. So, the only thing he can do is to reassure Eddie that he can take care of himself. That his dependence on Eddie is a choice, not a necessity, and that Eddie needs to learn that he cannot protect Buck from everything. Just like he can’t protect Christopher from the harsh realities of life. 

“Does it still hurt?” Eddie traces a finger along the scar on Buck’s side. 

“Nope.”

“And the nightmares?”

“Haven’t had one in days.” 

Eddie sighs, and his shoulders droop. “And Maddie?” 

“She’s going to therapy. Her and Chim both, and as far as I know, they’re doing fine.” 

“I hope that jackass never sees the light of day again,” Eddie spits, his eyes turning into hard pebbles. 

“Doug’s never going to hurt me or Maddie or Chim ever again,” Buck murmurs as he hooks a finger under Eddie’s chin, tilting his head up until he can see himself reflected in the deep brown of Eddie’s eyes. “He’s locked away for good. Athena made sure of that.” 

Eddie stares at Buck for a long moment, then darts forward and plants a kiss on the corner of Buck’s mouth. Eddie’s the only one who kisses him like that, and Buck’s come to cherish this thing his dom does that no other doms have ever done. Buck hums and turns to capture Eddie’s lips, his tongue licking along the seam of Eddie’s lips. 

Something in Eddie shifts, and the moment passes as they explore each other’s mouths like it’s the first time all over again. Kissing Eddie is like coming home, and Buck will never be lost and alone again. 

They break apart when the need for oxygen becomes too much, then help each other wash away the soap and bad memories before stepping out of the shower. Eddie tells him to put on some comfortable clothes and shoes, then disappears down the hall. Buck wants to ask where they’re going and what they’re doing for the rest of what’s turning out to be a wonderfully lazy and satisfying day, but for the first time in his life, he’s okay with waiting. 

There’s no sense of dread, no anxious anticipation, just this soft contentment wrapped around him like a soft blanket. He’s safe with Eddie, safe playing within Eddie’s limits because they’re his limits too, and it’s so damn nice to truly give himself over without reservation. 

Eddie drives them to the community centre and takes Buck to one of the smaller dance studios usually reserved for private dance lessons. Light streams through the large windows as warm sunbeams bathe the hardwood floors in a buttery glow. Eddie closes the door behind them with a soft click, then he threads his fingers between Buck’s and pulls him into the middle of the dance studio. 

“What’s all this?” Buck asks as Eddie turns to face him, their faces inches apart. 

“I’ve rented this room out for the next three months.”

“Oh?” Buck cocks an eyebrow and looks around the room once more as if it holds some new hidden meaning. “Why?”

“I’m gonna teach you how to dance the Kizomba.” 

Buck’s breath catches, and that fateful night in the club flashes in his mind in a mosaic of colours. “Like that night?” 

“Better,” Eddie says, his voice deep and husky. 

Buck groans and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as Eddie wraps a strong arm around his shoulder, his hand resting on Buck’s back as he pulls him close. They stand toe to toe, nose to nose, and Buck can’t take his eyes off Eddie if he tried. Sensations from that night filters back slowly, from the heat of Eddie’s hand through the thin material of his shirt to the grip of his fingers to the feeling of shifting muscle as Buck places his hand just below the nape of Eddie’s neck. 

Eddie squares his shoulders and clears his throat. “So, this is the basic posture. The leader—that’s me—and the follower—that’s you—embrace each other in a gentle hug, and we face each other always.” 

Buck nods and shifts his grip around Eddie’s neck. 

“Now, we take a step to my left, your right,” Eddie says as he takes a side step. Buck follows. “And move your hips to flow with the movement.” 

Eddie steps back to the starting position, and this time, Buck follows with a sway of his hips. Eddie’s eyes darken as he inhales deeply, and Buck grins. They move through this basic step a few times until Buck’s following Eddie through feel rather than verbal instruction, and they move around the studio in unison. The floor-to-ceiling mirror captures their every move, and Buck’s breath catches at how well they fit. 

Their bodies slot together perfectly despite the few inches of height difference, and when they move, it’s as if they’re one. 

They go through a few other step variations, and with every added step, they traverse the room with more fluidity. It’s easy to read Eddie’s body language when they’re standing so close, and before long, Eddie’s leading him without prompt. It’s as if his intentions flow into Buck through the press of their bodies, and Buck responds without conscious thought. 

And suddenly it hits him. 

“This dance is magic.”

“Yes, it is,” Eddie says without stopping. “And it’s even more magical with you.” 

Buck stops, halting their glide across the dance floor. “It’s so cheesy, but we fell in love dancing Kizomba.” 

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, the sound rumbling deep from his chest, and it warms Buck like a summer breeze. “ _Ay, cariño.”_

He wraps both arms around Buck’s waist and pulls him close, and they kiss as their feet move once more. 

They dance to the sound of music only they can hear for what feels like an eternity, and it’s not until Eddie’s bringing him out of subspace that Buck realizes how far the sun has set. An orange glow reflects off the mirror, and the setting sun casts long shadows as their bodies part. 

It’s strange to suddenly stand on his own without the heat of Eddie’s body next to him, and it takes Buck a second to reorient himself. 

“You ready?” Eddie asks.

“Ready for what?”

“To leave. I need to stop by Bobby’s to pick up something for work,” Eddie replies. He stares down at his boots and sticks his hand into his back pocket.

“Sure. I wouldn’t mind saying hi too. It’s been a while.”

“Great,” Eddie says with a sigh, and if Buck didn’t know better, that looked like a sigh of relief. “Let’s lock up and get going, then.” 

They return the key to the studio at the front desk and pile into Eddie’s truck. The drive to Buck’s old home doesn’t take long, and Eddie spends the entire ride holding Buck’s hand. Buck stares out the passenger window and sighs. It’s incredible how things have changed in a year and a half. If someone had told the old Buck that a year and a half later he’d be a probation firefighter and in a steady, loving relationship with the most wonderful Dominant in existence, he would have laughed the person out the door. 

And yet, here he is, holding the hand of the man who’s become his whole world, driving to his parents’ house after an incredible day of love-making and dancing, and knowing Eddie, there’s probably a romantic dinner planned. Buck doesn’t know what he did in his past life to deserve this, and despite all the shit that’s happened to him growing up, it all led him to this moment in time. 

Life’s good right now. In fact, it can’t possibly get any better. 

“Baby, we’re here.” Eddie’s voice pulls Buck from his musings. 

They’re parked outside the Grant-Nash residence amongst quite a few other cars. Are the neighbours having a party? Eddie takes Buck’s hand as they head up the walkway leading to the front door, and Buck’s reminded of the first time they walked this path together. Things were so different back then. Yet, it’s all oddly familiar. 

Eddie rings the doorbell, and the door flings open with an explosion of confetti. 

“Surprise!” voices cry in unison.

Buck blinks at the crowded gathered in the foyer of his old home, with Bobby holding open the door and May and Harry throwing more confetti at Buck’s head. Athena breaks from the group and walks up to Buck. She touches his cheek with a gentle hand before pulling him in for a tight hug. 

“I’m proud of you, son.” 

Buck melts in her arms and buries his nose in the crook of her neck, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. Athena has always been generous with her praise, but hearing her say those words still warms Buck’s heart as tears prick at the corners of his eyes. 

Athena gives him another squeeze before letting him go, only to have Maddie take her place. She yanks him in for another hug and whispers in the same ear, “Mom and dad would be so damn proud of you. As am I and everyone in this room.”

At the mention of their parents, something cracks inside him, and those prickling tears spill no matter how hard he tries to stem them. All those years of trying to forget what memories he has of his parents bubbles to the surface, and Buck sobs into Maddie’s shoulder until every repressed feeling worked its way through him. Fear, anger, regret, and the soul-crushing ache of missing them, they flow out with the tears until the thought of them no longer hurts like a knife to the chest. 

They’d be proud of him because he’s proud of himself. 

Gentle hands squeeze his shoulders, and Buck sniffles as he turns to find Eddie behind him. 

“Hey,” Eddie murmurs.

Buck lets go of Maddie and scrubs away his tears with the back of his hand, then laces his fingers with Eddie’s. “I’m okay.”

“I know.” Eddie brushes his lips against Buck’s and pulls back with a smile. “It’s your party. Go mingle.” 

As if on cue, people swarm them, and before Buck knows what the hell’s going on, he’s swept away down the hall and into the living room. The whole place is decorated with ribbons and balloons, and a banner that reads “Congratulations, probie” hangs over the mantle. 

There're appetizers on sticks and punch and a large cake with his face printed on it. Bobby mans the BBQ, and Buck can’t remember the last time he had Bobby’s famous ribs with the sticky blueberry BBQ sauce. 

No matter where Buck goes, Eddie follows not too far behind, so when Buck needs him, all he has to do is look up, and Eddie’s there. Not that Buck needs to have his dom with him at all times, but today he’s a little raw and emotional, and it’s nice to have his dom next to him, lending him strength through a touch and a kiss. 

Every firefighter from the one-eighteen save for the ones on shift are present. Even if Buck won’t be working with them, they’ll always be his family, and hopefully, he’ll carve out a space for himself in his new unit. It’s amazing how he went from an orphaned boy no one wanted to having a family so big he can’t keep count. 

The party went on well into the night. By the time everyone’s gone, Buck finds Christopher and Harry passed out on the couch. 

“I really should take him home,” Eddie says as he smoothes back a stray curl from Christopher’s forehead. 

“And wake the poor boy?” Athena clucks disapprovingly. “You’ll all stay the night here. Christopher can take the guest room, and you two can take Buck’s old room.” She pauses and looks from Eddie to Buck and back to Eddie, her eyes dancing with mirth despite the solemn set of her lips. “I trust you two will keep things PG?” 

“Mom!” Buck rolls his eyes even as Eddie’s face turns tomato red. 

“Good night.” Athena winks, then turns and follows Bobby, who has Harry in his arms, down the hall toward their bedrooms. Eddie looks to Buck, and Buck shrugs before bending down and scooping Christopher into his arms. 

“Oof, he’s heavier than he looks,” he grunts.

“You sure you can handle him?” Eddie asks, a smirk quirking the corner of his lips. 

Buck rolls his eyes again, but he doesn’t dignify Eddie with an answer as he takes Christopher to the guest room at the end of the hall. He waits for Eddie to pull back the sheets before lowering Christopher into bed, tucking him in just the way he likes. 

They back out of the room and close the door with a soft click. Despite the festivities and their multiple sessions of private celebration earlier, Buck’s too wired to sleep. He takes Eddie’s hand and leads him back to the living room and out the sliding glass doors onto the back deck. 

Buck leans against the railings and takes a deep breath, and Eddie joins him, his forearm resting on the metal next to Buck’s. The night is warm with an occasional breeze and the sky is clear. Stars twinkle even with the glow of the city, the moon bathes them in silvery monochrome, and everything is quiet as he leans his head against Eddie’s shoulder. 

“What a day,” he murmurs, and Eddie shifts next to him. 

“Tired?”

“A little, but too wired for bed.” 

“Me too.” Eddie kisses Buck’s cheek, and Buck purrs despite himself. 

They fall silent once more, just enjoying the quiet of the night and each other’s company. Buck loves the companionable silence as much as he loves their bantering, their love-making, their squabbling, their everything. Buck loves everything about Eddie. 

Buck loves Eddie. 

He’s not sure how long they stand out here, basking in the moonlight, and if it weren’t for the fact he can hardly keep his eyes open, Buck wouldn’t care if they stood out here all night. But the day’s finally catching up with him, and he makes to straighten when Eddie’s hand on his arm stops him. 

“Just a little longer?” he asks, and how can Buck say no when he’s looking at him with those big, brown eyes? 

“Okay.” 

Eddie fidgets next to him, and for the first time tonight, Buck notices the little tells. He taps the side of the railing with an erratic finger and shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and Buck can’t help but feel like something’s bothering him.

“Eddie, what’s wrong?”

“Hm? Oh—” Eddie stops his tapping and stuffs his hand in his back pocket. “It’s—it’s nothing.”

Buck frowns and turns to face Eddie. “C’mon, don’t bullshit me. Something’s eating at you. What is it?”

Eddie searches Buck’s face for a long moment, then closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, the nervous glint is gone. “Buck,” Eddie says, his voice soft as if he doesn’t want to disturb the tranquility surrounding them. 

“Hm?”

“When I came to LA, I was a broken man running from every poor decision I’ve ever made. I was lost, and I was terrified I’d fail Chris again.”

“Eds—” Eddie presses a finger to Buck’s lips, and Buck swallows the rest of his sentence. 

“And then I met you. And you were the breath of fresh air I didn’t know I needed. You showed me how to let go of a past I couldn’t outrun, and you saved me, Buck. You saved me and you gave Chris a precious gift, something I can never give him.” Eddie palms his back pocket, and Buck’s breath hitches. 

Could it be? Is Eddie _actually_ going to—

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you if you’ll have me. If you’ll have _us._ ” Eddie pulls a navy blue velvet box from his back pocket and drops to one knee. With trembling fingers, he pries the box open, revealing the platinum band encrusted with tiny, sparkling diamonds. “Evan Buckley, will you marry me and make me the happiest man alive?” 

Buck was wrong. Life _can_ and just _did_ get a whole lot better. 

_Husbands._ A thought Buck never dared to think because it’s too much like a fairy tale, and he never believed he’d find his Prince Charming and get his happily ever-after. Yet, here it all is spread out in front of him, and all Buck has to do is utter one tiny word. 

“Yes,” he breathes, testing the word as if he’s not sure he said it right, and when that one syllable tastes so damn _right_ on his tongue, he says it again with conviction. “ _Yes.”_

Eddie huffs a sigh of relief, as if there was ever a chance Buck would say no, and pulls the ring from the box. He slides it onto Buck’s ring finger, and the diamonds wink in time with the twinkling stars, so mesmerizing Buck can’t take his eyes off them. 

Gentle fingers grip Buck’s chin, lifting his head until he’s staring into Eddie’s eyes. There are so many emotions swimming in the depth of those deep, honey browns, but above it all is an all-encompassing love that wraps around Buck like magic. 

“I love you, _cariño.”_

“I love you more.” 

Eddie chuckles but he doesn’t argue, and they seal their love with a kiss under the watchful eyes of the moon and the stars. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments welcome and cherished! 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr [@imyourbuddie](https://imyourbuddie.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Come join us at the [Buddie discord](https://discord.gg/QBgJPg3) for fun Buddie shenanigans!


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